I was in a state of dysania, but
I could remember everything too well
and it was still vivid down to the
narrow ends of my brain that keeps
on reviving back the memory of
a place you once called haven,
stunned by the clement weather and
was drawn by the cooing of promises.
You brought me to a path that
I've heard of from the people I know
and as they tell me their narratives,
there was pain and trauma radiating
from their faces—I've enjoyed
the scenery you've shown to me, yet
at the end, as I was lying in the bed,
I found myself paddling and rowing
the same boat with them.
YOU ARE READING
Blued Lines
PoesíaTo those whose heart has been ripped apart, you're not alone in the boat. If you think that poets write wonderful lines and echoing endings, then you got it wrong because we also get broken and as you read each poem, the sadder and painful it become...
