Her eyes
look at me
like I'm still alive.
Her words are carried
unto me
like they still matter.
She tries to
contain me
to touch my being
but all I feel
is her going
right through.
She takes our pictures
not noticing
I'm not there.
I do not think she knows
how to tell ghosts and livings
apart.
I do not think she sees me
without a filter
o who she thinks I am.
I don't think she realizes
I don't breathe anymore.
Because if she were saying
all those words
that belong to the living
while I'm so dead
it would be
too cruel.
I don't haunt her
I already did so
during my living.
At her pace though
I doubt our string
can with stand the tension
much longer
Before she knows it
she won't see me
wont remember me.
YOU ARE READING
Mabye if I Fall Asleep I Won't Breathe Right
PoetryRelying on possibility, slumber, and the unknown sweet demise of death. This book is a collection of poems that are unrelated but as a whole struggle to portray the meaning of the title. Through my distorted vision, a lot of things might seem disjoi...
