"It hurts," she'd said
when all she felt was heartache and numbness
Her lips quivered in despair, her hands never stopped shaking
her heart, a clamp of bushes set on fire
She wondered what there is to do
other than to suffer in silence.
The silence that is inaudible to all
and the silence that is too loud for her.
Chaos unravels in her heart as silence becomes her attire.
Darkness overshadows all the light that used to live on in her
and the sullen desires in her heart
no longer scream from beneath her skin.
She feels like a shipwreck, an abandoned house
a withering flower garden
a child long dead in her grave.
The rain pours, the people go home
The wind silences all
Umbrellas swarm beneath the grey sky
The lightning strikes right after
and today all she can think about is death
and all the way it could come to her and take her way
the very end of her misery
the demise of her sorrow
When matters of sorrow are spoken of
it's never the only one we mean that we speak of
but the twenty others from months, years ago too
because we can never forgot every thorn
that has pricked our skin and made blood
trickle down.
The days pass but the agony resides
The body stays but the soul is long gone.
YOU ARE READING
It'll pass, you'll heal but that's a lie
PoetryI'm made of memories and thus I write.
