A pang in my stomach,
A wet tissue,
A bleeding hole in my heart,
Tears on the table that I haven't bothered to dry.
I say I'm okay;
What else do they expect me to say?
I've stopped crying,
But I don't think I'm any more okay than before.
I gaze outside at the white falling flakes.
The beauty of the snow is mesmerizing.
But it fails to distract me;
Everything I see reminds me of everything I lost.
Suddenly I feel the pain clearly again;
Fresh tears spring from my eyes.
I'm really alone,
Staring at the tears on the table that I don't bother to dry.
YOU ARE READING
Swoosh - a book of breezy poetry
PoésieSome of the least poetic poems you'll ever read, written by, you guessed it, me! These are some thoughts and feelings that I tried to put into words. I started writing poetry regularly back in January, so the poems in this book kind of tell the stor...
