black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Odd Ken

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
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
To me there was only ever you!
ODD KEN

Love Myself One Liner Relationship Yourself
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
I’ve seen it, I know it too; love still dances in the fire after the rescue.
ODD KEN

Dance Fire Love Myself Rescue See
Often times the language is different; by which I mean, I love her, and it’s the only stammer I’ve ever known.
ODD KEN

Different Language Love Myself Time
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
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
Just as it demands blood, to meet bone, It’ll forever take something painful to understand pain.
ODD KEN

Blood Demand Forever Painful Philosophy Understand Wisdom
There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.
ODD KEN

Battle Burn Healing Ink
Most days missing her is my only choice between death and dying.
ODD KEN

Choice Death Herself Missing Myself
Please the night’s cold, not her name again!
ODD KEN

Cold Herself Name Night
Pain is never too weak to leave the body still standing or laughing the same.
ODD KEN

Body Laughter Leaving Pain Stand Weakness
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 knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.
ODD KEN

Born Break Up Leaving Myself Poet Yourself
Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.
ODD KEN

Herself Name People Skin

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

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There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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