Contorted images of a sunken face haunt the reality that lays behinds my eyelids-
Emerald eyes and wicked grins tiptoe through the shards of a shattered heart that lay within,
So instead of succumbing to my need for rest,
I punish myself for giving in the temptation of flesh- for surrendering to mortal sin.
The regrets pile up, and weigh my head to the pillow,
While each time I close my eyes, my eyelashes grow heavier.
The split second of darkness my eyelids provide become Heroin,
This is when the impending thought of sleep becomes Deadlier.
Sweet serenity pulls me into its loving arms spinning me into spiraling dance,
And the thought of your face at the end of the dance yanks me from the embrace.
No amount of rest is worth the broken record that plays your sickly sweet works,
I instead explore the thoughts of your departure, in the place of our wasted chase
My limbs tangle themselves in the sheets, in the absence of you,
My fingers flex against the sheets, clutching reality with a dead man's grip,
When the clock strikes for the 4th time after midnight, your memory began to sweep through,
Its inviting presence encapsulating me and pulling me to another battle lost.
YOU ARE READING
To The Stars
PoetryDrifting thoughts of a wandering soul. "I am lost amid memories screened in smoke and veiled in melancholy. How the world sways and stars dance, how the night becomes day and I? I remain lost, wandering aimlessly in the obsidian soaked path laid ou...
