surprising, your empty bullets and
blood soaked carpet
instill within me thoughts of
candlelight dinners,
hot baths,
rose gardens…
a romanticized violence;
I trail my fingers across sharp silver.
can you see
how desperate I am
to be
wounded?

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: art, c.eve, cassiann eve, dark, dark poetry, eve, ofeve, poem, poems, poetry, shadowofeve, thefirsteve, uncategorized