my poetry - kelsey loch

non-conscious

i am death alone, he is the life within my bones.
you pump the blood to my lungs, the latest supply of oxygen-
although all i'm used to is the antique shops.
i will never be a poem,
nor will i ever be a beautifully written song.
i'm the face that will forever be remembered,
a body that was dismembered,
a name that is a constant reminder,
a face who was well admired.
one that is prolonged-
i have a soul who has always belonged,
as was once known from beyond.
since now undead and once blood-red,
you finally read my misdelivered spread.
a scroll full of words i've always longed to hear
the truth that wasn't present,
for my time was once unclear.
you said that there was ' rest
for the non-conscious ' ,
what a disappointing lie to tell.
i had my hopes set high,
just to say farewell-
to a truth that once lived,
and a lie that shall forever be told.