·˚ ༘ ➳〔it is a beautiful kind of pain〕 ࿐ ࿔:🖇
You first experience it when you walk back home
Carrying a paper bag and a bottle of wine, feeling alone,
You fall to your knees, clenching your shirt right above
Your chest; something that hurts so bad shouldn't be called love.
You look up - the sky is silver, too beautiful for such a painful hour,
You cry golden tears that bleed the world dry of its color,
Feeling the earth contort below your trembling legs,
Untying what kept it together until now, cutting off its threads.
When the snow touches you, it is cold and stings just as much
The lack of love, you break down knowing that no one would watch.
And, even if they did, no one would really care
About another girl crying with snow tangled in her hair.
YOU ARE READING
Of sweet and sour - poetry book
Poetry...and maybe sometimes words and paper are enough to heal a wounded heart
