There are still
Parts
Of the walls
Stained red.
It took me
Months,
But I finally
Listened
To That Song
Again.
You act
Like it never happened
But
You're still not fine.
I'd be lying
If I said
I liked my life.
You get mad
When I bring it up,
And I get mad
When you breathe.
I sound bitter--
I know--
But, it's hard to care
When you've cared for too long.
And, it is hard to feel,
When feeling feels wrong.
YOU ARE READING
She Dreams of Life
PoetryPart two of my poetry. First one: "She Dreams of Paradise". "I write letters to the dead. Pass by cemetery's Whispering, "I am sorry." To all of the lost souls Listening."
