It was an obsession.
But I didn’t fear it.
There was no hatred
only within me
a strange stillness,
a fevered silence.
My chest, too serene,
drowned in the void.
A poisoned relief,
a cold embrace.
It was a gentle collar,
a velvet touch,
a prison with no bars,
but tied in a silent clutch.
You thought I would remain
clinging to what you said?
That your shattered truths
were all I had left?
But some ties break loose
when the soul finally wakes.
Even the sweetest knot comes undone
when the ache no longer takes.
Now I rise, steady and whole,
with the scars of what you were.
No longer your prisoner
I’m the echo of my own power.
YOU ARE READING
illusions
Poetry"This is where I write down my thoughts and ideas about various topics that pique people's curiosity."
