TWENTY-NINE
how small I am against the world
I am small.
I stand five foot tall and linger close to the ground, right above a grave that
was dug for me a long while before my decay; it's like they knew long before.
I stand so small amongst the rest of the world, but somehow, I am the biggest of all.
Everything billows so strongly from my chest, I cannot see through the smoke.
My lungs are quicksand, dipping each word farther and farther until I cannot raise
them from my chest to my throat in time for you to hear me.
Anything I breathe in, sinks in, and it soaks down, away from sight.
That is why my blood is tainted.
Did you taste it when you stole the life from me?
A reminder of death lives within me, deep, right where your lips found me.
The burgundy dipped in saliva, words drenched like mud, are caked at the back of my throat.
Enough to where I can longer tell you how my own name sounds.
I don't like my head being lost, but I wouldn't mind if it came off at all.
How tall are you?
𐎀 I'm around 5'2 or 5'3!
May
YOU ARE READING
𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
PoetryMELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love...
