Bare feet running on beach grass
Sunburnt skin cut on broken glass
I'd ask if we could go back
But my mind won't stay on track
Why?
Have the constellations fallen from the sky?
When your eyes have lost the spark of life
And I find in your hand a rusty knife
Your fingers tinged red
Mouths shapes words unsaid
We buried you in beach grass
It seems now I am broken glass
A kaleidoscope of jagged edges
My dreams are filled with cliff ledges
And no one thinks to say
Stay
So if I let myself fall
Could I be safe, once and for all?
Or will I lose you once again
With only beach grass on my skin
-Nostalgia
YOU ARE READING
Please, Disregard
PoetryAn untold story from a misplaced generation, this is teen angst at its finest. These the writings of The Suicide Notebook, or how I'd imagine them to be. It's mostly going to be in poetry form, slam or rhyming. Keep in mind that slam poetry sounds a...
