I opened doors without a knock from the other side
I painted my soul with everything that's bright
Like the morning sky turned to perfect scarlet
But no one was there to see the night
I took empty seats and half-filled promises
I found myself in crumpled thin sheets
Like the ink spilled did not really matter
And if it did, it mattered for the wrong reason
In my dreams, I ripped my own shadows
peeled my skin with my fingertips
I never wanted to be me;
And it hurts not wanting myself.
I closed my eyes like I'm ending my life
Gasping for air but not wanting for more
Pushing my head down the sink
And I thought of you.
I was happy I met you.
YOU ARE READING
A Diary
PoesíaSee how the world could be sketched into words and how poetry could find a missing soul.
