To the friend that left,
it was hard to cope with the empty spaces.
I thought about throwing a funeral
so that I could stop searching for closure
in the silence; But it's hard to mourn
over an empty coffin.
To the friend that left,
blossoms bloomed beneath every weed
you left, and I would've been such a beautiful garden
- But I missed you so much,
I started pulling the flowers instead.
To the friend that left,
I threw out the rest of your belongings.
Box by box, my garage has become
a cardboard fort with a sign reading
"Take it all, I can't live with these ghosts".
To the friend that left,
your image still haunts me as I sleep.
You are more than a dream,
but nothing short of a nightmare.
YOU ARE READING
Heartstrings and Other Things
PoesíaSnapping like the strings of violins, red dripping on my fingertips. The angels cry for the bleeding hearts, the sirens sing their songs of sorrow, both sobbing in their worlds, apart, what is whole today is gone tomorrow.
