Rippling glass,
Rippling with waves of light,
So full of peace, warmth...even at night.
I can hardly speak because my heart is full of water, rippling and waving and drowning me.
A single, tiny fishing boat sails through the choppy seas of my mind-rolling down the curve on my nose, overcome by the waves of my tears.
This boat, like all the others, will make it to my lips, then sink, the words dying like the light inside me. In my veins it is constantly night, water and bubbles flowing through the tubes that drown me all the time. The ground is seaweed;dragging, dragging me down, to the depth of the ocean. Perhaps if there was no seaweed I would float into space, into the void called loneliness, suspended in darkness forever.
Would it be so different from where I currently am, though?
Stuck in a nightmare, unable to move. Suspended. Darkness everywhere, no humans insight....
No. There cannot be an ocean in space.
There cannot be me in space, for I am the ocean.
(Original)
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Original Poems
PoesíaPoems I write in my notebook. They aren't brilliant but they're not bad either, hope you like them. Sneak peek: "Blood dripping from a Rose, Is like seeing an angel cry, It's unholy, never to be seen, It's heart has bled dry." All original, no copy...
