black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.

Odd Ken

To me there was only ever you!
ODD KEN

Love Myself One Liner Relationship Yourself
Respect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.
ODD KEN

Born Pain Respect Sadness
Maybe water is not entirely lost when soaked into sand. Maybe it finds a better resting place to call home; and I hope she did too.
ODD KEN

Better Herself Home Hope Lost Place Rest Water
I guess this has been my confusion; where I went wrong. Thinking that love could possibly come as a thing without the burns.
ODD KEN

Burn Confusion Love Myself Possible Thinking Wrong
Love is a job doer and a man slayer. Both equally efficient, until the taste of it is most felt on the cold side of the ribs.
ODD KEN

Death Equality Feeling Job Love Man Side Taste
Sorry to a heavy heart in the morning; sorry to waking up and being yourself the only reason to cry.
ODD KEN

Cry Heart heavy Morning Reason Sorry Wake Up Yourself
These sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.
ODD KEN

Death Deep Edge Enough Hurt Myself
After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!
ODD KEN

Brutal Demand End Healing Myself Poem Run
Somedays depression is tender, as though hurting is just an art; and that maybe she didn’t break me more than enough!
ODD KEN

Art Break Depression Enough Herself Hurting Myself
In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.
ODD KEN

Blood Death End Fire Paper Play
I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.
ODD KEN

Break Up Buy Drink Herself Myself Poet Relationship
Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.
ODD KEN

Herself Name People Skin
I forget how our story started; but these days I’m finding the missing pieces behind every exhale, where I left the words standing with sore feet.
ODD KEN

Forget Missing Myself Pieces Stand Start Story
To heal is to be constantly reminded that once you learn to punch, you die with blood on your wrist.
ODD KEN

Blood Death Hands Healing Learning Wisdom Yourself
What if love has always been the quench and the fire? or perhaps all we need to lose to find all we need to have?
ODD KEN

Fire Lose Love Need Philosophy
Please the night’s cold, not her name again!
ODD KEN

Cold Herself Name Night

I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.

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I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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