i was running over the blade edge
just to make a perfect cut
just to spill out all my blood
blood that joined you from blood that joined you from me
i was certain i may rest in peace after this
your love was the evil gust of winds
my soul was so deep that it snatched from it.
Running over razor's edge is prompted by great restlessness of mind of an individual and in such a state a perfect cut may not be possible. Off course, it can be an outcome of a betrayal of very high magnitude. Nice write. Enjoyed the poem. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Warmth Of Your Betrayal - the title is very attractive with brilliant use of irony. nice write.