Brambled velvet, bloody thorns.
The sweetest warmth on my tongue.
A distant memory of a soft touch that never was.
The thorns are a poison, and the fruit its cure.
The sweet fruit that turns the ash in my mouth to wine,
the peaceful ignorance of my intoxication.
Numb to the destruction as I tear away the velvet fruit,
leaving a mutilated husk, its life blood dripping.
The desolate brambles now rotting in the sun.
Its life for mine, a life I never wished to take,
as if there was some other end, some perfect end.
But it was all a dream.
A haunting dream.
An eternal dream.
A dream more real than life.
My first poem in 3 years! This is a poem i wrote today, im very proud of this one i think its my best one yet, and unlike my others it doesnt rhyme. Anyone who cares at all about poems id really appreciate you reading it and giving some honest (and preferably critical) feedback.