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postvirginityPoems
Too spun to know the sound of pain But the notes are there Everyone's feelings are different Time is medicine Among other clichés But feelings should be humbled Time as an hourglass stretching across the desert An eternity to heal An eternity to forget Needles to the skin Lonely painted rooms Yearning for attention The house, an empty cardboard box What alone really means A golden shrine to kneel in front of A stone to plant flowers Bringing about memories A slap on the face Black and white movies Tears Humming an unknown tune The taste of salt lingers Presence no longer with us I searched for traces of her existence The voice Gentle hands I found her hoard of papers Among them, One I wrote About how I cannot connect with family stomach voided wanting to connect with you Chest tightens I just didn't know how And here it goes again
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
Lost Feelings
Too spun to know the sound of pain But the notes are there Everyone's feelings are different Time is medicine Among other clichés But feelings should be humbled Time as an hourglass stretching across the desert An eternity to heal An eternity to forget Needles to the skin Lonely painted rooms Yearning for attention The house, an empty cardboard box What alone really means A golden shrine to kneel in front of A stone to plant flowers Bringing about memories A slap on the face Black and white movies Tears Humming an unknown tune The taste of salt lingers Presence no longer with us I searched for traces of her existence The voice Gentle hands I found her hoard of papers Among them, One I wrote About how I cannot connect with family stomach voided wanting to connect with you Chest tightens I just didn't know how And here it goes again
#bipolardisorder#death#depression#loss#connection#lost#time#mania
postvirginity
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postvirginity
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
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