It's the sound of dextrose
that fills the empty void.
Is it my heart or
the internal silence?
The sound of my heartbeat
Echoes like a static
That I've long memorized
For a century.
Winter never ends, but
you brought spring to me.
Your smile is warmer than
a summertime's kiss.
Like in a bus stop, I wait.
But you are the bus that
never comes because
I was already too late.
YOU ARE READING
Entendre
PoetryAn expression or burst of emotions, a place of solace from suicide and depression. May be an art or a form of liberation-probably a loss of sanity driven from hungry memories; to understand and listen to the stories around us, a passion-driven delir...
