The lines were blurred from the start.
Deceptive were your eyes,
indistinguishable from the dust and ashes
of what once was.
You blended in well with my being
for anomaly was in I.
So minuscule I didn't know
that the strings of my violin still bleed red from the words you catapult without a care.
It cut me deep even with my sturdy walls.
Now I've ran out of things to say
while you're taking back every word you've ever said.
Clung so tight in the tumultuous wind,
to a prejudice gone so terribly wrong.
For I wasn't a pertinent thought,
but just a fleeting jolt of timid emotions.
Drew you in - my diffidence
and now I'm drowning
in the depths of your indifference.
Reminiscing of a taste so bittersweet
now it feels like bile - up in my throat.
A palatial dungeon is your heart
I resided, for some,
but all it did was prod my sanity furthermore.
My bruised knuckles hurt way less
than the tattered mind you gifted-
a perquisite for being kind to the forlornly.
Slowly, you sculpted me into you
isolated, dark, and cloudy.
The days rained down on me
draining any sense of hope and
leaving me with despair.
I took the blame and the dagger
for your tainted heart should not be contused,
your rigid self should not be lost.
Now, I hide away from the light
wanting to remain shrouded.
Your gentle hands marked my skin,
with wounds that will forever be unhealed.
Bleeding till there's nothing left of me
all there is, is the shadow of myself you left behind.
Unwanted and untouched by kindness
while the graveyard of your sins reek of my empathy.
I buried them beneath the layers of my psyche
for no one else should glance at your flaws but me.
Strangers we are now.
We walk past one another like any other.
But tell me now -
How do I bury alive the overwhelming
knowledge that I have of you
without it ending my soul?
~ si.
YOU ARE READING
Silhouette
PoetryM O N A C H O P S I S the persistent feeling that you're out of place or don't belong. A collection of poems.
