//
I remember that day,
So well,
When the temperature outside was so cold,
And his tears too.
When his words were the flames,
Waiting to burn everything it touche,
Until it was nothing but ashes.
When he left me,
It was like a the land beneath me,
Shook.
And his memories,
Became ghosts, haunting me.
And I had nothing left in me,
Because he took everything
That I dared called mine,
With him.
But now I feel,
Missing him,
It's like walking in the rain,
And expecting to stay dry.
Missing him,
It's like breaking a heart,
And asking it to not be broken.
Missing him,
It's like fighting ghosts,
And expecting to not feel tormented.
Missing him,
It's like loving a memory,
Where only shadows kiss you back.
Missing him,
It's like trying to erase his traces from the sheets,
Yet, his scent never goes away.
It's like wanting to cry,
But not having enough tears.
Or screaming your lungs out,
And there is no one awake to hear you.
It's like asking for peace,
When the first bullet has been shot.
But most of all,
Missing him,
It's like having so much to say,
But saying nothing at all.
And it's absurdly painful,
Because I thought we were meant forever,
Maybe I thought wrong,
Or maybe we did it wrong.
Cause afterall,
Darling, who we are other than temporary creatures,
In the grand scheme of life?
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Tales
PoetryPoetry is an art of survival. This book is a result of words carefully woven together by threads of unspoken feelings by the poet, creating a beautiful artwork called poetry. Highest Rank #1 in poetry
