my rooms a mess
but my head for once feels clear
when i cover the floor
no one can see my tears
the smell of rotting food
covers up the scent of you
i can't let it linger
my cold empty fingers
i make my bed everyday,
helps me to not remember
the wrinkles you made
i'll take a bite of this old rotted surprise,
it still will not hurt the warm heart inside
the way you did with the things you do
why did i ever think to love you?
flattened my heart out like an old tattered pillow,
blamed me for mess that you left on the table,
guess that it's time I took out the trash.
no matter how long I scrub the feeling still lasts...
bleaching my bones
rewinding this brain
wish I could undo the scars that you made
but you know that I can't so
i'll sit here instead
take in the feelings from
your mess that i made?
your mess that i made?
- diaryofalittlestar
YOU ARE READING
i think about it all the time
شِعرa collection of unique poetry fueled by random deep emotions and thoughts that sometimes sound unsettling. eldest thought daughter.
