You've no idea, do you, of the adoration I hold?
No thoughts to mingle in the night of lost tears
or shed blood through the agony of isolation.
I don't expect more than this,
but I do deserve more than this.
Idly hanging on the side is not an occupation
I'm used to fufilling.

I may not be the best at mending your wounds
but I've had one hell of a week patching up my own.
Although you may not have held the blade
you were purely present in my mind.
This sweet intoxication of ignorance leaves a bitter taste in my mouth;
at least I didn't get it in my eye.

If I were to caress your cheek and bear to you my scars
would you not turn and run?
Last I checked, none should care for the marred skin of the fallen;
None shall adore the whimsically unborn,
but I shall forever adore you.




@->--

Not really inspired by anything, but still a good poem.
Enjoy.