Poetry of the Anonymous

XXXIV - Window

I want your pain,

For I know it made you –

Who you are right now,

Not planning for tomorrow.

I look through your soul –

In an attempt to find myself –

Yet all I see is distorted glass,

And a representation of reality I can't escape.

Crushed from the outside in –

The destruction of emotion –

Clouding now what I thought would always be clear,

A love in which I lose sight of my fears.

Now as the dissonant chord –

Of your mind,

Lying dead on the bathroom floor:

With a bottle of pills to your left –

And to my right:

The face of one who could no longer fight.

It rings out calling me to the beyond –

But as I start to fade –

I realise it's all made of glass –

Everything I see is a depiction of another –

Wherein your heart resides,

Is there in inevitably among lies.

For as much as it kills me,

You're not who I need you to be –

And I'll never be who you want when you see me –

Therein lies the truth that our love can never truly be:

Real –

But only ever an illusion trapped behind the glass,

I wish one day:

I could feel –