By Lily Estrada
My most beautiful curse: your love. That
you might send your white knight,
Brandishing sword and smitten light
In defense of my morality, mortality, my haven. But
my head rings at the sound of your bells, And I
choke on every word of your songs.
Even after walking away, I see you
Through glass stained with my blood. I
no longer want to kneel to you
To be deserving of your love.
I do not want to beg when I see no wrong. Yet
without your love I fall, your curse.
How do I admit, I favor the love of your Dark
knight. He at least acknowledges me.
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