I dabble in poetry.
When the sun rises, I think it's night.
The stars are shiny pearls in my jewelry box.
Moonlight hurts my eyes, and fire burns like ice.
I dabble in love.
I know you're nothing like the day, but I can't see the night.
I only see the sparkles in your narrowed eyes.
Dark is forgiving, and your burns warm my ice-cold skin.
I dabble.
Opinions? Hate it? Love it? Want it to be hanged, drawn and quartered? Let me know! Thanks, guys.
