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❝ The 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 on my teeth
begins to taste like a 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎,
like 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏,
like the way you 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 at me ❞
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It will have 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, they say.
𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 will have 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅.
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And his 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 his lips were 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆 - scarlet madness. And I wanted them wanted their 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆 - gentle, strangled agony. But it was only then - his smile faded in 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 - I knew that wasn't wine - that it was blood - and the 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 the taste was 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.
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Because I could not stop for 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 – He 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒚 stopped for me – The Carriage held but just 𝑶𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 – And 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.
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disclaimer. tom riddle belongs to j. k. rowling. all gifs and quotes used in this chapter belong to their rightful owners. all poems in the next chapters belong to me.
warnings. mention of death, murder, blood, toxic behavior and other dark themes that might be triggering for some readers. please proceed with caution.
note. thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy my attempt at poetry! feel free to leave suggestions & constructive criticism, feedback is always welcomed :)
