Floating alive in the ashes,
Particles laying gently against my body.
Collecting dust,
Hands wide open,
I'm beginning to start receiving your love.
The sun peeking out of the clouds,
Is it finally time to move on?
Wrinkly dry scaly skin,
Cracking at the aching movement,
Im moving on,
But not without the memory of you.
The beats of the music,
Temporarily removing the pain,
And when the voices stop speaking,
I fall back to missing you.
YOU ARE READING
Dysphoria
PoetryPoetry about my experiences as a lover of alcohol I've never thought I'd become a writer, so here are my skills after three years of writing and accumulating over 300+ pieces of writing over the years. This is still my writing in its purest form, an...
