Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Feb 2021 Joanne Monroe
Paras Bajaj
The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Joanne Monroe Feb 2021
I'm a drifting dandelion on the edge of a riverbed. There's a cavernous hole  inside me I wish to fill up  to the brim with my tears till it overflows and spills on the marble floor. There's  noose tightening around my heart and with the blood I'll paint a broken canvas  and on my knees I'll paint a portrait of my pain as a reminder of my dismal existence, I will crown myself with thorns and call myself the Queen of death because it is all that I crave. Then plunge me under the invisible sea, the sea my remaining soul.

I'm a reminder of broken goddesses who live in pyramids of golden sands, and I'm slipping through their hands to an endless void where the pain can't find me and my only companions are the demons inside of me.

I'm hurting everywhere, everywhere, everywhere and I don't know how to stop the breathing in my lungs and the blood flowing to my heart. I want to carve  my heart out and squeeze it until it breaks and I'm dead on the floor. Death never felt so close. I feel myself slipping and I can't hold on because the ones who told me they'll hold me always let me go.

- The Poet A.
Joanne Monroe Feb 2021
Father, can you feel your heart beat, beat, beat. Can you feel how it wants to leave it's cage and be free, free, free.

Father, can you feel the newly fresh wounds sprouting from your lips every time you kiss a woman, did you know it is a punishment for what you did?

Father, do you still believe the lies that you told her? An epic poem which you wrote on her waistline. Did you know that you hurt her?

Father, are you there? I can't seem to hear the tumultuous symphony your heart makes when you're scared, father? Did you found the courage to take flight? Father... Please come back.
- The Poet A

— The End —