My fear; My bluest fear, is the ocean.
Sure, his peaceful, rhythmic waves are keeping time for now.
This, my friend, will not always be.
Once the emotions began to disturb him, he'll become angry (it's in his nature.)
When this happens, he'll remove himself from his abode.
Then, he'll devour the immediate dryness of the raging emotions of the beings that interrupted him.
That's my fear - my bluest fear.
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My fear; my bluest fear, are the tears that constantly battle with my eyes.
Most of the time, they win.
They obtain victory, because there are way too many to deny the rush - they stream down my face.
Your blue words became lighter and lighter, until I couldn't see them anymore.
You stopped.
You just stopped.
No warning, no fussing, no sweet goodbye.
You just left.
You went away and found joy in someone else.
As much as I want to deny this truth,
my fear; my bluest fear, is you.
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YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poetry(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...
