He's telling me that you're going away.
For how long, I asked?
He didn't answer.
No one has the answer.
Some say I'll see you again, others say I'll just have to wait.
I don't want to sit around and count the seconds till you walk around.
Can't I find you myself?
Why must I suffer so long without you?
I try my best to smile and laugh, but all I do is cry and yell.
I lay in bed each morning and night, just waiting till the time is right.
I'll get there someday, maybe not tomorrow or Monday. I can't on Thursday either, neither can I Wensday. So I settle for Sunday. The day comes around and leaves just as quickly. Nothing, however.
I still feel the same.
People have stopped feeding me hope. Instead, they rest my soul.
Nothing is going to come of me. Is there? He's never getting back to me. I ask them foolishly with wide eyes and an empty box of tissues that they used. They pat my back and tell me goodbye, maybe they'll see me some other time.
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I thought of different ways the poem could be interpreted. Maybe the loss of a loved one, maybe battling depression and referring to happiness as a person who left them. It's all very personal and up to the reader. I'd love to know how you interpret it. Maybe you have a different point of view? Do comment and let me know!
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PoetryMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
