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a manifesto.

  • artbycupid
  • Jan 6
  • 1 min read

To fall is to be a dove 


no longer. It is a sanction; 


wings tarnished in soil. 


Should he ever watch me 


break my neck,


he may never rest again. My body 


twisted in his mind. 


             A raw reminder of love's


               chaotic thorn, made to rip apart 


in the name of desire.      Desire, 


who has no face, and 


no reason. A cold truth 


disguised with a lie. 


     Desire is no light thing, but I'll


 make it light.  


 
 
 

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