Loving him felt like running blindfolded through a maze
Tripping over things I didn't know of,
bruised and scarred from running into walls.
Stumbling, crawling in the dark – in the unknown.
Fumbling in the dark, a matchstick in hand
but couldn't light any without setting myself on fire.
Loving him felt like drowning,
Fighting so hard to come up for air,
But eventually losing strength,
Slowly giving in to the numbness,
Loving him was madness,
Something I imagined beautifully in my head,
But was a tragic nightmare instead.
YOU ARE READING
Raconteur
PoetryThere are numerous ways to let another person in to your mind. A neurosurgeon could- via surgery, or a person could read through another's writing. I prefer the latter. This book consists of bits and pieces of what goes around in my mind. Hopefully...
