“Water the dead plant…”

You’re within my heart, every inch of my skin knows you, my lips have felt every ridge of your fingertips and my eyes have gazed into your whisky-toned galaxy of a hypnotizing universe. You melt me like a magma that beautifully eats up the sparkle of fresh snow. There’s always a trance on me. And I’m never in control when my mind wanders into your silk lips that pour droplets of molasses on my lips and I come to life. My ribs are crumbling into dust under the power of your magic and I cannot breathe anymore. You give me life.
A sharp pain hits to the core of my spine and I feel the urge to scream. What I realize, those were the creases of my bedsheets that woke me up from the haze. The scorching sun burns my eyes and there’s an acid in the air being sprayed in my eyes. No. Tell me it was real. Where do I put the cracked glass? I selfishly hold on to this like it will always be the way it is.
“Hold my hand and water the dead plant”
Why don’t you see it’s dead? Why don’t you?

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Author: mishalshaheen

Electrifying emotions with twisting words to a zone of infinitude.

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