Lost between what is,
And what was,
I roll a blunt and fill thy lungs with smoke,
On my other hand there's a coffee mug with something a little stronger than coffee.
I sit on this balcony with grey clouds surrounding the sky,
And temperatures low as my so called cold heart.
The frosty wind that blows,
Leaves my hands half frozen as I try to relight this blunt for the hundredth time,
An escape from reality is all I ask.
Tears fall like the broken tap at my grandmother's kitchen sink,
Lost between what is,
And what was,
I didn't want to write this piece so it's straight from the heart,
My words are tainted and my efforts go in vain,
So I refrain from lifting the pen because everytime I do
It feels like I'm holding 20kg with my right hand.
On my left hand I hold what is,
I wonder if what was, was just a figment of my imagination,
Let my words go in vain as I keep digging my grave,
A dark hole I may never climb out.
So I...
Buy myself a coffin filled with regret so I know that when the day comes,
I'll sleep in a regret filled coffin.
I didn't mean to fall in love.
YOU ARE READING
THE MORNING AFTER
Puisi"My love for you runs so deep, It is hard for me to even sleep. Every time I see your eye, All I want to do is cry. When I touch your lovely skin, I get so nervous from within" a continuation of midnight thoughts my previous book if you haven't read...
