deepundergroundpoetry.com
Love Script
The pen ran dry, as all love seems.
The ink no longer pours, as it use to bleed.
Lead goes dull, and erasers fade.
But the words themselves, still cut like blades.
Handwritten or typed, they all have pain.
Some worse then others, some all the same.
The ink no longer pours, as it use to bleed.
Lead goes dull, and erasers fade.
But the words themselves, still cut like blades.
Handwritten or typed, they all have pain.
Some worse then others, some all the same.
Published 12th Jan 2025
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