an articulate man
holds my heart in
his hand
spins a web of magic
with his words his words
he can treat me bad
and hate my face
but when he starts to talk
he leaves me in a daze
his weapons are sentences
poetry and dreams
when he starts to speak
i am beautiful
or so it seems.
holds my heart in
his hand
spins a web of magic
with his words his words
he can treat me bad
and hate my face
but when he starts to talk
he leaves me in a daze
his weapons are sentences
poetry and dreams
when he starts to speak
i am beautiful
or so it seems.
2 comments:
Stunning!
One wonders whether this is the prequel for the previous poem.
sooraj!
what a stunning POV. i wrote this poem before moody but now that you mention it, why not? an articulate man who becomes the object of my kinda love? i like the idea.
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