i see him.
he was standing there
laughing, casually talking to me
casually leaning against the wall
as we chatting about nothing and everything.
oh, those good old times.
as i gaze at the empty corridor
in front of me
my muscles tighten
my fist clenches
my jaw tenses
breathe.
you're fine.
that corridor won't kill you
i'm fine.
the corridor won't hurt you,
but these memories might
all of a sudden
my mind was flooded with him
and only him
i froze
yet i willed myself to walk forward
i can't stay stuck here forever, can i?
i saw his silhouette in my mind
hear his taunting voice in my mind
'you useless fool!'
'i didn't know you were so naive, so gullible, to have believed everything i said!'
i feel the pain, the stinging pain on my cheek
as he slapped me
once,
twice,
thrice,
till i can count no more.
yet,
all that stood in front of me
was merely just a corridor
with no knives, no bullets,
no hands, no words
to hurt me.
but
these memories hurt so much more
than words ever can.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments of A Soul
Poetry'I'm no longer a whole; just fragments of a soul. My life is no longer red or yellow or blue; all that's left is a greyish hue. But, my soul will be whole once again and my life will be filled with sunshine and rain. Till then, words will be my esc...
