Disposable Love
I crave that blade that slits my wrist,
I’m not afraid of this.
To ease the pain this wicked way, leave
it be to remain twisted I’m not ok.
Devoted to cut was the motive for blood,
Disposable Love.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
