More poems by Berzen

No Title

You took my hands in yours,

But you turned my palms up

And slit my wrists.

You ran your fingers through my hair,

But you pulled my head back,

And cut my throat.

You held me close to you,

But you squeezed me too tight,

And you suffocated me.

Love was the death of me

Because I loved death.
Poem by Berzen