The audience breaks into loud applause as I smile politely,
Fighting hard to keep my unease at check;
People parting to give me way.
I reach the stage and tell a story improvised.
They cheer obliviously. I halt at my car to bid farewell to my
Friends, going back to my lonely house. Trees sprint, horizons disappear.
But your face, crystal clear.
I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm crazy and I lack sense.
It's you who throw it all away. I miss you. The tip of my fingers brushing
Your hand. Your young sleeping face in my arms. I love you.
Girl, Wash Your Face! screams Cary Grant
From the next room door.
YOU ARE READING
Narissa: A Poetry Collection ∣✔Poetry
❝In the death of me, I found solace. ❞ What readers say: "Starkly honest, seeing the naked soul of your own, relishing the sorrows of being alive." "A mystic poet is born!" "Keep it up. Keep being alive. Keep writing." Poetry of the past of me. Lyr...