Weak.
I am weak.
Tears stream down your face,
Mixing with evening rain.
The sun is laying down to rest in the distance,
The blue sky is now decorated
With shades of pink and orange.
You gaze at me, baffled and confused,
While I let the rain seep through my clothes
And deep into my bitter bones.
I look at you and I wish that I could tell
Exactly what it is that you are thinking,
What you are feeling.
Your face registers hell, but
You are normally reserved and composed.
I should feel special to receive
A look of hellish concern from you,
But I cannot seem to find my emotions.
Like the history and connection that I have lost,
I appear to have lost my emotions as well.
Why does my chest feel so heavy,
Yet so very empty, at the same time?
Stepping.
You are stepping towards me,
And yet I feel nothing, no heart beat,
Only emptiness and the rain that
Permeates my skin and liquefies my bones.
I look up towards the sky,
A deep-seated frown is situated on my face.
I knew happiness could never last.
Now you are sprinting towards me,
But every step you take only seems to distance us.
I wish that I couldn't remember...
Seeing your face in dreams only makes this harder.
Please,
Just give up on me.
Do not haunt me any more.
(Not when I want you to stay).
I am drowning in a vast sea
Of blue, pink, and orange
As you try to reach me.
I know that you care,
But I cannot understand why.
Why?
Why do you waste your time on me?
You are still trying to reach me
And I desperately want to feel something,
But my body is weighed down with emptiness.
It is hard for me to breathe, to feel,
To acknowledge that I exist.
I wish that I could drown in this rain.
You look at me, a sad expression rests on your face,
As if you just read my thoughts,
And I feel a twinge of sadness when
Your sad eyes meet mine.
I do not want to hurt you,
I just want to hurt myself,
Because pain is all that I deserve,
Not you and your love that spans
The infinite chasm of time and space.
You look at me and smile a sad smile.
Weak!
I am so weak!
I have hurt you again,
And history repeats itself.
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PoetryWhat happens when your own thoughts betray you and you have nowhere else to turn? This is my story, and I will not let this sadness be the death of me, so I'll take this pad and pen and express what's mine.
