Older poem, but same feelings.
My friends have gone away
I know it's better for them
To live in a different day
But every time the sun rises,
I am reminded by the shadowless hall ways
That I am alone
And not one day
Will I come to say
that things are
better
in this way
And that I don't see ghosts in the windows
Empty chairs
Unlocked doors
That memory of the morgue
Cold
Bloody
Corpse
With still such delicate
fingertips
I want to reach out
Maybe this time I could reach
With more than just words
But I still can't untangle my bones
To reach with anything more
Than my torn out heart
Yet
Somehow
I'm the one who's still breathing.
YOU ARE READING
Acts of Rain ||a collection of poetry|| #Wattys2016
Poetry((Look at how dramatic past me kinda made this description)) //older poems are kinda shit// Same old empty feelings. So I've tried writing poetry now.. Mostly more on the sad side, but I am not you, the reader, and pain and beauty are viewed diff...
