"(𝒏.) 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒓 '𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔' 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒖𝒃 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔"
The sound of raindrops on my window,
The absence of light in the soul.
The soft pitter-patter outside my window,
Calling me home.
The days that I wish to never remember,
But never cease to forget.
The melancholy call of thunder,
Brings back the force of my regrets.The images playing out behind my eyes,
Like a broken lens.
The things my therapist warned me about,
Haunting me inside my head.
It's like rewinding the past,
From the backseat of your own cinema,
Looking on through the eyes,
Of the person you once were.Remembering the moments,
Before disaster struck.
Before fate pulled the trigger on my life,
In these moments, my mind is forever stuck.
Remembering the way she laughed,
As she held me to her chest,
She was my shooting star,
Now she's my promised neverland,
As she lays in the ground to rest.Before her smile was no more,
Strewn across the pavement like a decoration in a ball.
Dancing the tango of death,
Oh how even the mighty ones fall.
I can't but relive the dreams,
Haunting me as I walk ,
camouflaged the shadows on the wall.I didn't see the bright lights speeding in my path
I didn't hear the sickening crack,
or the splat as my head hit the cold concrete below.
I would laugh at the ironic situation,
If my soul hadn't already left the show.
My last memories of the way she swayed and fell,
The pitter-patter still echoing a soothing calm.
Guess I'll be seeing you after all,
I'll be coming home in a while mom.By Shamiah James Blugh
Phosphenes
Published on Monday, May 10th, 2021For anyone that didn't understand:
This poem is basically a story in the form of poetry. I actually cried a little while writing it too. It tells the tale of a girl who lost her mother and has been reliving the day ever since. Too lost in the turmoil of her own mind she didn't notice the car coming her way and got hit. She died the exact way her mother did.Extra, I know!
Don't forget to vote and check out my new instagram account. Check out the pic below!
YOU ARE READING
Soliloquy - A Book of Poetry
Poetry𝑇𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑... "𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎...