*(Side-note: This poem may be a little darker/sinister to some people, do skip if its not your typical genre or something that you want to read.)
What I imagine lost to feel like...
What I imagine lost to feel like is
to climb into bed
in the dead of winter
only to have the blankets
ripped from your body.
Lamps switched off-
an aura of unimaginable darkness
swarming itself over the once dimly-lit candlesticks.
What I imagine lost to feel like is
to fall asleep only to suddenly jerk awake
to lose yourself to the feeling
of violently falling through
an invisible bed of stiff air;
unable to fight the situation nor succumb to the feeling.
You grasp blindly
finally to feel an outline
Yet...
only once it is in your hand
it melts away
like water
blows away
like sand, and
extinguish like a flame (fire).
Blind. Thats how you feel.
Empty and Hollow.
Thats what you see and what I am.
A shell of once was.
A landscape with no photographer.
A charred image.
A puzzle with broken pieces.
A bed with no occupant.
A photographer with no landscape.
A camera with no photographer.
A sword with no wielder.
A beast without a beauty and a beauty with no beast.
A fire which is cold and a cold which emanates warmth.
YOU ARE READING
Short Poetry: In the Works
PoetryCompilation of personal writing. The accumulated result of many English assignments, procrastination and general boredom over the past year (2016 going into 2017).
