I crave the idea of you
The darkness without a face
The demon without a voice
Yet you scream louder in my ear
Day after day
Week after week
Whether I am in my tomb
Or in a warming light
You linger no longer on the back burner
Standing in the front row
With a desire to be noticed
A sickness that I unable to get rid of
Remaining me that my touch remains black
Scarring those who feel
A once warming feeling replaced by burns
Looking at myself as if I were a monster
A beast rather than a beauty
The curse laid upon me
As nothing remains but a lifeless body
And here I sit
In the bindings of my tomb
With a window to what was
A happier destiny
Where the broken little girl did not cry
In the destruction of what once was a room
Behind the heavy doors of a prison cell
A mind full of confusion
And a heart full of wonder
Seeing my eyes in the field I look out upon
Of the person I shadow
YOU ARE READING
Life as a Poet
PoetryA bunch of poems and short stories from the perspective of being a poet. They range from being break up related to falling in love.
