The Paint On The Wall Dripped;
I Sat Cross Legged
In The Middle Of The Room.
Bare Wood Floors Beneath My
Hands.
It Was Cold.
There Was No Furniture And
The Paint Smelled Strong
Of Cheap Chemicals And Pine
Needles.
I Cried Out Until The Burn
In My Chest
Dulled To A Mellow,
Hollow,
Ache.
Longing.
I Can't Feel My
Heartbeat Anymore.
Was It Ever Really There?
The Ringing In My Ears Is Faint
But It Never Leaves
And Neither Do My Thoughts Of
You.
The Lights Flickered Off
And The Walls Melted Down.
The Floorboards Beneath Me
Disappeared.
I Was
Falling
Until I Hit The Bottom.
I Felt My Teeth
Fall Out Of My Mouth,
And My Eyes
Roll To The Back
Of My Head.
But I'm Not To Blame,
For I Am Only
H u m a n.
YOU ARE READING
Why (and other poems)
Poetry✽You wonder If you were just Too oblivious, Or too naive.✽ A collection of poems I write on occasion ~
