Poems

The Dramatic Irony

There is an emptiness that surrounds me.

I ache for the warm sunshine
and the smell of roses.

Tea burns my lips
but I feel nothing.

A memory of you is imprinted in my mind.

The only thing that brought colour to my world of sepia.

I feel so inexplicably alone,
even in this crowded room.

I grasp tightly onto the beautiful things around me, praying, to the God I don't believe in, that someone will finally see me falling.

But their eyes are focused on other things.

Their whimsical laughter fills the room,
intergrating with the sounds of glass clinking and the insufferable odour of sickly sweet Merlot.

The urge to colour my skin to match their red wine is stifling.
I would kill to see their faces if they ever saw the scars
that overlap on my thighs.