Left With a Scar
⋆ ˚｡ ︶⭑ ꒷꒦︶ ⋆ ⁺₊
Such a cruel winter for a cold person,
With no authentic happiness within.
Different varieties, but only one version—
You left with no clue, only a scar on my skin.
A trauma of a dramatic poet in a theater,
Just to keep the audience believing.
Lies behind those lies, truth hidden in my sweater.
You made Cornelia Street rhyming.
Come to my dreams, a nightmare without darkness.
My heart was borrowed by a monster.
A room full of clouds, but I feel the emptiness—
You know my smile, and you smile, my impostor.
The scars fill the pleasure with undeniable pain.
I'll still save you a seat for every table turn.
Bloody tears wiped away by an endless rain—
Take me home; please don't make me yearn.
You walked away but left my heart and a scar.
Don't know why you hate the winter season.
If only summer or spring could be the only blue star—
The end wasn't like a shadow for wild unreason.
YOU ARE READING
Cornelia Street (Republished)
PoetryThrough sonnets inspired by Shakespeare, I reveal intimate secrets I've longed to express, despite fearing they'd go unheeded. They capture the anguish of unspoken emotions, yearning for acknowledgment, only to face silence. First Published: May 5...
