a tempestuous storm
of her eyes
whining on the wind
as if a wolf,
howling it's sorrow
in cries of loss.
the blackened sky
between the gaps
in her fingers
the dust consumes
from her fingers
into the sodden grass
dropping like cymbals
upon uneven ground.
tear through her ribs
borne of heartbeats
that roar misery
in the sun,
dries to dust
and gladly falls
her sorrow leaks
into her veins.
at her torment
that ebb and flow
wither and die
in her isolation
an eternal grounding
as loves tempest
she hears the
and she is too empty
smol edit, i hope it reads better now :)
The night before
Your fingers carefully slid down my seams
To understand exactly
What holds me together
You brutally and ruthlessly
Pulled me apart
So here am I:
Broken, but alright
Alone, ever so slight
I wrote this poem a very long time ago and found it among all my papers and crap, then decided to publish it
I would still apologize.
But I would ask why it was so easy for her to leave me.
I would ask...
Can't you just...
Don't leave me.
Nothing happened if nobody talks about it. And yet, it all really happened.
I promise you I am safe every night.
I don't need a bodyguard.
I don't need a guardian angel.
I know you're out there somewhere away from me.
And that's okay.
I should tell you I still imagine myself in the hospital.
I sometimes wish I was in critical condition just so you would have a reason to talk to me without feeling weird, awkward or forced into it.
Although hospitalization is a weird way of forcing you to see me out of guilt.
Mostly because if I was dying...
You would show up only if you really did care.
It is not enough for me to just let you go.
I may have stopped talking, or stopped crying.
But I never stopped hurting.
And I reach out, I hope for you with all I can. I'm still on your side.
So if you end up at my hospital bedside...
I want to hear you say it.
That you care.
That you never stopped caring.
That you actually want me around.
That you want me to live.
Or just that you don't want me to die thinking that you didn't give a ****.
Because that's what this still feels like.
That's what walking away does to a person.
I'm safe here. I will not go anywhere.
But I still hold out optimism for you.
But I was told, "Things will not go back to the way they were."
So I guess that optimism is just ******* right?
It doesn't mean anything.
I know you wish I would just simply tell you this face to face.
But in all honesty...
I'm not brave.
I'm not as strong as you thought I was.
So I write instead.
You told me I could write to you anytime.
And you would be here.
But now you're gone.
And I can't do anything about it.
So I will continue to pray for your safety for as long as I can.
Because I don't know when I'll see you again.
And I've told you I fear the day when I don't.
You told me I would.
But that was before...
Things are different now.
And despite all the pain...
I'm still safe.
And I'm still...
I'm still broken when I see you sometimes.
— The End —