Yr love is a jagged edge sword
That I continue to swallow
It slowly cuts my lips and throat
And draws blood that flows white
As it gives me an existence to ponder
It becomes a person that reduces me to nothing
On a bed of broken glass
The shads penetrates me into a void
As you grab my hard and pull me out
I let go
I continue to fall; landing on another bed
But this one is made of swords
Stabbing on the red floor, dying
Waiting for someone to rescue me
Waiting for someone to rescue me! ! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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Broken glass! Thanks for sharing this wonderful poem with us dear poetess LeeAnn.