Your texts were a reserved haven
For this broken mind.
Your words were a form of meditation
For these overworked emotions.
The kindness was to be savoured.
I ate candy after candy.
Allowing myself to be intoxicated
With the evangelical drug
Which compelled my senses to shut down
As this sweet yet morose wave
Rushed over me.
And I was submerged.
Until now.
As my hands reach out
To embrace the icy chill of the air,
The bittersweet smell of lemon and honey
Tickle my fingertips.
And my head slowly rises
Above sea level
My impaired vision
Hinders the awakening
Of the sorrow hidden behind
My luminescent skin
Coated with yellow glitter
For I cannot see the series of arrows
Heading towards the dartboard.
Bullseye.
As the earth's tenacious hands pull me to the floor
I felt the reminiscent traces of your warmth
Glide over my pale skin
Now oozing in thick red watercolour
Creating a crime scene
On the canvas beneath me.
"Bidding starts at 200!" You yell
As people rush round
To see the demise
Of the once emperor of her life.
You sold me.
YOU ARE READING
The Beauty of Nightfall
PoetryThis is my poetry book filled with poems that are told by my heart and soul. I hope you like them.
