Jeweled colours sparkled in the misty grains of the glass
Their beauty was overwhelming, yet it wasn't meant to be
For only I could see them, appreciate them, love them
As the only person who could view their beauty was me
I put my hands on the sun-heated panes
The warmth warming my once chilled spine
I see my lover standing there, beautiful
His hands on mine, our fingers intertwine
In reality,
His back is turned, hands by his side
Forgotten promises
Unforgotten lies
I have no remorse, just a broken heart
Thoughts pushed aside, leaving me in pieces
Burnt-out lungs, dying heart
My body burning, turning to ashes
The weight of the world weighs me down
With the loss of my rock
I am separate, trapped
Trapped in a glass box
YOU ARE READING
The Poor Side of Silence
PuisiA collection on poetry that allows me to gaze into the abyss. As my heart drips into these pages and words slip out of my psyche, this breathing document is to show the world as I see it: celestial.
