Poetry

Hacked to death. 
All I scribbled on― 
your breast. 
 
I was on the verge of 
a confession. I loved 
you like never before. 
 
A full moon, like a 
toddler was hopping 
towards me. 
 
Never reached the 
perfection. Do not have 
any wants. 
 
Getting the burns 
from the cushions. 
I will call you later.