I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared,
some could say that we still share them,
it would be difficult for me to disagree.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your life hangs in the balance,
tipping ever so slightly into the unknown.
We share the same name
and although I have tried in vain to change mine,
it still sticks,
lingering on old tongues,
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
you sit, waiting for whatever will come next,
you watch me with curious eyes, as if i know the answer to your questions,
and it pains me to tell you that I do not.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
we are a magnificent circus duo,
I, the ventriloquist and you my mindless drone,
or you the ventriloquist and I, all alone.
Our audience laugh at our shared torment and
I, I laugh as well at the situation we have created.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
and though we share the same name,
the same face,
I fear we are no longer the same.
You are a reflection of what used to be,
of what is now forgotten
and fading away,
as though you never existed in the first place.
And, I , I am the aftermath,
The desolation after an explosion,
I am the one who was left behind to pick up the pieces.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I hold you close to my heart,
close enough that the pounding of my being deafens you,
and the shaking of my rib cage engulfs you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I tell myself that it is to protect you ,
but in reality I know that I am crushing you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared.
But now you are gone and yet I still remain.
Those memories intact but not looking the same.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared,
some could say that we still share them,
it would be difficult for me to disagree.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your life hangs in the balance,
tipping ever so slightly into the unknown.
We share the same name
and although I have tried in vain to change mine,
it still sticks,
lingering on old tongues,
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
you sit, waiting for whatever will come next,
you watch me with curious eyes, as if i know the answer to your questions,
and it pains me to tell you that I do not.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
we are a magnificent circus duo,
I, the ventriloquist and you my mindless drone,
or you the ventriloquist and I, all alone.
Our audience laugh at our shared torment and
I, I laugh as well at the situation we have created.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
and though we share the same name,
the same face,
I fear we are no longer the same.
You are a reflection of what used to be,
of what is now forgotten
and fading away,
as though you never existed in the first place.
And, I , I am the aftermath,
The desolation after an explosion,
I am the one who was left behind to pick up the pieces.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I hold you close to my heart,
close enough that the pounding of my being deafens you,
and the shaking of my rib cage engulfs you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I tell myself that it is to protect you ,
but in reality I know that I am crushing you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared.
But now you are gone and yet I still remain.
Those memories intact but not looking the same.
I'm not too sure about this one.
