The cold coffee lay forgotten.
Tangled up in my own mess
while my fate trips me to the floor.
The wick burnt cold
patterns made wanes as do my sins.
The pounding on the door grows silent.
Fissure adorning the wall,
skeleton derides from the closet.
Your shadow looms, then fades
just like any other.
Cold to the touch
set the flowers on fire
yet my blinded heart wept.
This ruffled chaos wants you back
even though you aren’t the missing piece.
You’ve left no trace of who you were,
just a memory labelled regret
in the worn-out book of mine.
They said it doesn’t have to make sense
and you made no sense
but maybe I’ve been lied to.
My indifference has deafened those,
because out of all the lies I’ve heard
yours were my favorite.
Let it get past my head,
found warmth in your cold hands.
The calloused comforted the fragile.
Unfitting yet wanted.
Your once bright eyes pulled me in
before the fire behind got burnt out.
Now they give me chilling shudders
like something I would never want to be near
as if I’m the prey you’ll pounce on.
Blood stains adorn me
as if it were the part of a whole.
The fairy’s spell is broken
and now it’s the melancholy of plain reality
which once warned me
of the monster in my own bed.
Remember me,
for this wreckage of yours
still hopes that you’ll sing me to sleep.
When the reason I don’t have any
still stares at me in my nightmares
like I’m one with utmost beauty,
because our mothers never once taught
that eyes can too lie.
~si
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Silhouette
PoetryM O N A C H O P S I S the persistent feeling that you're out of place or don't belong. A collection of poems.
