blood, imagery, love, lust, poem, poems, poetry

What Am I To You?

What am I to you?

I want to know.

Paint a picture with my blood, in freshly fallen snow.

What do you feel, when you see me smile?

Oh I so wonder, if to you, I was ever worth while.

Go on, this vibrant ink will soon run out!

At least this way, Ill know what you’re all about. 

And Im expecting a picture I wouldn’t want to see,

Which is you, in a world, separated from me.

And in that case my used up ink will be worth while,

My life will drown away, and so will my smile.

Oh how much I loved you, you’ll never know.

But I guess, you gotta learn to let these things go.

I know I was only an object to fulfil your lust,

So there is nothing else to be discussed.

Just leave me behind, let my blood sicker into the cold,

Its time for my coldest darkest corners to finally unfold. 

And now Im back to being, my cold hearted, old self.

Now its all regrets, I should’ve never left this shelf.

I should’ve just stayed in the dark,

And should’ve never allowed my real self to embark.

But its too late.

And time to serve my rightful fate.

To be alone and cold,

Never to smile, whilst being surrounded by gold.

But every now and then,

When my ice cold reality comes crashing in,

I ask myself,

What am I to you?

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