behind the locked door
in a steamy cloud of mist
i drag my finger down the mirror
writing your name
over and over
inconsistent, misshaped words
humidity conquering my breath,
making it feel impossible to respire
yet i do nothing to help myself
maybe i'll die in here.
in that moment
i felt nothing
only
utterly
pathetic
s.b.//
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
behind the locked door
in a steamy cloud of mist
i drag my finger down the mirror
writing your name
over and over
inconsistent, misshaped words
humidity conquering my breath,
making it feel impossible to respire
yet i do nothing to help myself
maybe i'll die in here.
in that moment
i felt nothing
only
utterly
pathetic
s.b.//
a poem written out of pain
