Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsListsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsListsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Pure agony ...

by katy-winser

It's Sunday morning, Diego lying on the bed watching the clock: forty-six. Usually at that time was fast asleep, but not that morning. The truth is that he had not slept at all, another sleepless night. Since he arrived he was not sleeping, not eating; his worried father had also taken him to the doctor, who had given him sleeping pills and recommended to relax ... Relax ?! And how come he could relax when he kept thinking of her face and in her words, "Be happy! I certainly will be. ". That memory was pure agony, her eyes shining, full of unshed tears and his voice barely almost suffocated, and finally the sentence ... they both knew that neither of them away would have been happy, but then why? Why say something that is striking both?
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
katy-winser
For You?
Written by
katy-winser
Published
Aug 27, 2014
Time
1m
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell katy-winser how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogSupportFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 [production] by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write