Annachi - Hello Poetry

My whole body is a wreck legs too tired from carrying around what's left of me to places that are never home. My arms are in pain trying too hard to hold the falling pieces together. My eyes are burning because of these tears that are never enough to let me drown.

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Jun 6, 2020

Jun 6, 2020 at 11:16 AM UTC

Annachi

WEDNESDAY.

My whole body is a wreck legs too tired from carrying around what's left of me to places that are never home. My arms are in pain trying too hard to hold the falling pieces together. My eyes are burning because of these tears that are never enough to let me drown.

10

I wonder if love ever had your eyes I wonder if those arms where ever meant to hold me or if I was just blinded by the desire I wonder if the words you spoke were ever about love and admiration This is not another poem about the love I never received from you You left me with many questions those I never had the courage to ask you

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Jun 2, 2020

Jun 2, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC

Annachi

I WONDER.

I wonder if love ever had your eyes I wonder if those arms where ever meant to hold me or if I was just blinded by the desire I wonder if the words you spoke were ever about love and admiration This is not another poem about the love I never received from you You left me with many questions those I never had the courage to ask you

13

The sun entering my room breaking through my window without permission like bullets breaking through the air as they own it reflecting on my walls, as beautiful as it gets just reminding me of the things that I am missing crawling in my bed made of unchanged sheets and remorse a wet pillow to collect my tears and my exhausted mind to hate the intruder that tries to light up the darkness without the real intention to save me from it. I wish night time could come earlier to reflect what’s inside me to show the sky without the stars as dark as the night can get as dark as the city sky that reflect the artificial lights of the streets with no lights of his own.

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Jun 2, 2020

Jun 2, 2020 at 10:20 AM UTC

Annachi

SUNDAY.

The sun entering my room breaking through my window without permission like bullets breaking through the air as they own it reflecting on my walls, as beautiful as it gets just reminding me of the things that I am missing crawling in my bed made of unchanged sheets and remorse a wet pillow to collect my tears and my exhausted mind to hate the intruder that tries to light up the darkness without the real intention to save me from it. I wish night time could come earlier to reflect what’s inside me to show the sky without the stars as dark as the night can get as dark as the city sky that reflect the artificial lights of the streets with no lights of his own.

18

A significant flow of thoughts are following each other in a succession of meaningless words. I try to catch them to make sense of my own mind to clear the thick fog around the vocables. They are fast, slipping through my fingers and slowly become my worst enemy. As they escape me my mouth becomes a cemetery with no visitors

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Jun 2, 2020

Jun 2, 2020 at 10:18 AM UTC

Annachi

NOTHING.

A significant flow of thoughts are following each other in a succession of meaningless words. I try to catch them to make sense of my own mind to clear the thick fog around the vocables. They are fast, slipping through my fingers and slowly become my worst enemy. As they escape me my mouth becomes a cemetery with no visitors

12

You don't deserve to live on these pages you don't deserve to walk free through my mind. I will lock the memory of you in the box in the darkest corner of my mind where all the bad things lays. When I will talk about you when I will bring your memory back to life I will not remember as a nice person I will talk about you as trauma as something that left a nasty scar that infected all the flowers growing in me.

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Jun 1, 2020

Jun 1, 2020 at 1:55 PM UTC

Annachi

YOU.

You don't deserve to live on these pages you don't deserve to walk free through my mind. I will lock the memory of you in the box in the darkest corner of my mind where all the bad things lays. When I will talk about you when I will bring your memory back to life I will not remember as a nice person I will talk about you as trauma as something that left a nasty scar that infected all the flowers growing in me.

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