Ill Allusion

Shards of glass on the floor

mists of smoke flavoring oxygen

my heart in andante

and my thoughts run allegrio

 

the last pint of blood in the 

cartridge of my pen

let me write the words

that lived long enough in me

 

let the paper breathe

and take my essence

as I give it to you

 

the scarlet sulked

dried pulps of trees

as the remnant of our bond

 

open up your heart,

lelt it bleed

and allow my offering

drink

your sacrifice;

may you remember our pact.

 

Ironclad as we were,

we locked ourselves and thought

it as home;

 

I didn’t know you

were Houdini

while I was prisoner.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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