CIAO
And because the heart
takes the form of a bottle
and I can't dam
a running river on my mattress
Twice, thrice, four times
Why do I care?
I mean
How many stitches
does it take to dress up
In a scarf made of lemons?.
Pain allow me the clarity of red and black
My tears are no different from shards
I won't lie am not happy on my own
My warmth is as fickle as fire
my tongue paves road that wouldn't
converge at the mouth of an ocean
my mouth digs fingernails
on the ceilings below my head
For the things I wish to say are far from my reach.
Ears fall to the ground the shape of a hand
In a prayer to a god
that lives in timber
And perhaps it's the dirt or depth of this
or signals in the fog
Each breath is a mountain to climb
It gets as hot
as when you cook
diamonds into pastes
My ear bites off by one word it doesn't want to hear
Whereas the only thing that
matters,
doesn't.*If you like this or you feel it's relatable to you
Please drop a comment or just like.
Don't be a ghost reader😥*Thanks so much Sweethearts for taking your time to see this
Remember, Like, share and comment.
Your likes count
but
Your voice counts more...
😄😄😄
Mi amoreN.B- NO PART OF THIS WORK CAN OR SHOULD BE COPIED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, IT IS TOTALLY MINE AND I RETAIN COPYRIGHT
Thanks.
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YOU ARE READING
The Land of Limbo (COMPLETED).
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry written in protest to the silence I carry in the real world. My Lala Land. Here on I can be myself, marking out the battlefield in ink. For fellow comrades, who also carry protest of silence in the real world, feel fr...