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Little Sins

I stole a book.

I stole a poem full of meaningful words,

I stole an artist's expressions,

I stole a symphony.

I stole every beautiful chord.

 

I stole a script,

I might just have stolen someone's career.

And I snuck into a movie,

I saw the actress cry,

I caught and botteled every tear.

 

I stole a rose.

A lover saved it for his valentine.

I like to steal for observation,

I ruin several lives.

I crave all world's beauty to be mine.

 

I stole invitations,

Stole myself into glamorous soirées,

When I saw money, drugs and grief,

I slipped them down my pockets:

I stole to learn what we can be.

 

I stole a smile.

She was so pleasing I'd accepted failure.

I sang my stolen symphony,

When she gazed at me,

I stole colors and painted future.

 

I stole kisses,

Handed them over with the stolen rose.

I cried 'bout every stolen moral,

She wiped my tears away,

Those I stole from the actresses shows.

 

I stole her pupils.

Yes, I saw them widen just for me!

As I recited stolen poems,

She offered me her smile,

I reached the time to set her free.

 

I stole a heart.

I noticed the colors on her body

Fading away into the gloom.

I wore her stolen smile,

Although my lips tasted bloody.

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About Me

I'm a passionate hobby writer and poet, usually finding comfort in German poetry rather than English texts. However sometimes I feel obliged to express myself in English. "Puddle of Ink" was my first attempt at sharing these thoughts. Now only because I've published a book, there is no reason to let this blog die, right ? :)  Feel free to skip through it and/or contact me here.

 

mail@interiorgirl.co


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