Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2019
Within the
Matter of time
Don't know
Why
One collides
Somewhere
From the parallel world
Eventually
No easy way out

It's okay !
But a life of
A pulsatile heart
Never beats
The same
Genre: Dark Abstract
Theme: OSLA=One Sided Love Affair || The Parallel Lines
The last time I saw you, I smiled, and feigned  
Simple friendship with my lips.  
I walked beside you down a narrow forest trail,  
Tall grass playing at my fingertips, until we emerged  
At a stream, where we sat and talked.  
While my heart beat your rhythm in my ears  
So loudly that I never stopped to wonder,  
If my rhythm was beating in yours.  

I don’t remember most of what was said.  
I can see your eyes, sparkling,  
Darting between mine and the water,  
Your half smile, playing at the corner of your mouth.  
I can see your lips moving, soft and full  
As they wrap themselves around syllables,  
But I can’t make out the words  
Just the thumping in my ears.  

When I leave, for the last time, we hug.  
I feel your soft warmth against me  
And wonder if you can feel yourself  
Thundering behind my ribs.  
I hold on, only a second too long,  
Despite the aching in my blood not to let go,  
Not to unwrap myself from you.  
Because part of me knew, this would be the last time.

Why did I come at all,  
When both of us knew that the stars were already  
Spinning us out of orbit.  
To prove to myself that you were just a friend,  
Or lie to myself that you weren't a lover.

I should have never come,  
Or never left -  
But all we say
is goodbye.
daisies Dec 2016
Something about the weather echoing my thoughts that makes me believe I belong to winter alone.

The meek raindrops dripping through the notched ceiling is the slow release of all the bottled-up agony and sufferings.

Darling, it is raining in my head as well tonight.

The startling gusts of wind against the windows are my bleeding fingernails pressed against a wooden door with no one to save me on the other side.

The deep, dark murmurs heard on an empty road are the humming voices inside my head that neglect and put down my efforts.

The voices have become amplified.

Those angry, screeching cat cries is my true voice finally finding itself after long seasons of quietness and despair.

Frustration now has a voice.

Umbrellas hold people hostage under their protection just like my pulsatile depression seems to like restraining me to my lousy bed.

What a fierce lover I've got.

This gentle nature-stirred madness has made its way fearlessly right onto my once-blue skies to shamelessly prove to me that I'm never alone.

— The End —