Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Winter Sparrow Nov 2019
Close your eyes.
And dream.
Dream of me.
Dream of all that could have been.

Dream of the beaches and the passion.
Dream of the struggles and storms.
Dream of the sunrise and sun sets.
Dream of the two of us, amidst all of this.

Who am I kidding?
I am the one dreaming.
I am the one lost in fantasy.
I cant help but think.

All I can do is dream.
Of what could have been.
Of how I could have been that one.
Of where this is going to take us.

Wake up boy. Stop dreaming.
Don't fool yourself. Stop thinking.
Open your eyes and see what it actually is.
This isn't Neverland. This is real
For some it is the heart
It aches at night
It cries for the one who made it beat
The one who made the life it gives worth enduring
It aches, it hurts and sometimes it shrinks
But it is filled with every beat you wish wouldn't come

For some it is the lungs
They quiver with tears
Shed on the bathroom floor
They quake with the body
Shuddering without their arms to hold it still
But they can be filled with a cry of despair, a gasp of anguish

For me it is my arms
They wrap around me but still feel empty
They stretch out at night feeling for the ghost of a  memory
They cannot be filled with a pillow
And a stranger doesn't fit right
They can only be filled by you
The one who makes my heart beat
The one who made me lose my breath
But your not here
So now my arms will forever feel empty
Mystifying Chaos Oct 2015
The feeling of loneliness that resides.
The heartache that makes you cry.
The guilt that kills you from the inside.
The gut wrenching screams that shook you awake at night.
A momentary lapse of your moral rectitude destroyed your once happy life.
One mistake is all it took to fragmentize your soul.
Just some words.
Just some words spoken under the influence of anger that clouded your mind,
Were enough to shatter the world you worked so hard to build.
The regret suffocates you.
The flashbacks haunt you.
No medication seems to work.
No place to go.
The memories run like a broken record in your mind.
There is no path that seems to be right.
Except for an endlessly dark abyss leading to self destruction.

— The End —