How does it feel to be called out,
Called upon.
Freezing cold under the ice,
Treading water.
Under the surface,
Kicking and thrashing,
Losing all your courage.
For you drew strength from our love.
Our dead love you had no trouble trashing,
Burying.
Denying to this day,
Denying the truth about the way you feel
Answering all of my desperate, pressing questions with an absent "Idk".
. . .
"idk"
The words of a fellow with a limited vocabulary,
The words of a fool.
A coward.
My coward.
A foolish boy;
My foolish boy.
I love thee.
So how does it feel,
To have your head held down,
As you tread water in 10 degree weather?
Dear.
How are the sharks,
Love?
Do you remember the beach,
Warm and sandy,
Honey?
Did you enjoy laying me down,
Kissing me all over, with no shame or regret,
Baby?
Do you remember unhooking my bra,
Or the expression you had when you looked at me,
Sweetheart?
Do you recall calling me the most beautiful girl In the world as you kissed me sweetly, and held me close to you on the cold beach in August?
Even if you did remember,
You've got moments left.
So tell me, lovely,
How does it feel to drown, in your own blood?
Is it better than treading water,
Under the ice,
For the rest of your
God
Fore
Saken
Life?
Authors note:
Hey my friends! Or just Emmy, hiiii. I haven't updated in awhile but I recently have had a lot of time on my hands what with depression and such. I just wrote this poem a little while ago and it is currently about 2 in the morning on New Year's Day, so I wish you all a happy new year and good luck and what not .
YOU ARE READING
The Way I See It
PoetryThere's a little bit of good and a little bit of bad in all of us. But sometimes the bit of bad, is good, And the bit of good, is bad. The trick to knowing which is which is to do it wrong, and then you'll get it right. You'll get it eventually. ...
