My beliefs have been swayed,
I tried to wave a finger at the wind,
But my eyes were blinded with fear,
I couldn't find it.
When the memory you gave
Smells like an old wooden case
I set, already opened,
In the corner of my room,
White rush, toys and
Baby, I lost the key to your house,
Have I told you about the moon?
She lingers in all my darkest dreams,
She lights my way back to you,
If I told you I still feel
A million blisters on my heel,
Would you call me a stupid fool?
You don't want me but I came
To tell you the things I should've said,
What did you want me to do?
White lies poison,
You don't need to let me in
I'm going up like a balloon,
Just know I couldn't leave in peace
If I didn't tell you the truth
YOU ARE READING
#0045
PoetryWhat should I make of a recurring dream I had; trudging through a hollow, absent of light, echoes of thoughts and emotions from my memories. I don't know what is real, everything fades.
