Jerusalem
The city of peace,
bathed in the blood of martyrs,
and built on their bones.
The city of peace,
bathed in the blood of martyrs,
and built on their bones.
Love is just a word,
but “loyalty”, “devotion”?
Those are so much more.
A novel wonder,
the thrill of an unwrapped gift –
who knows what’s inside.
The taste of her lips
remained after all this time,
a soft memory.
A deep betrayal,
“I can never forgive you
for what you have done.”
Arrogant poet,
think you’re so fucking special?
Get a fucking job.
Born in the winter,
is it any wonder that
I act so coldly.
I feel like I’ve lost
that childhood merriment this
holiday season.
Brightly colored gifts
with your name written on top –
surprises inside.
This Christmas season
I just want good memories,
tied up in a bow.