I come in
stepping on creaking, wooden floors
to sit down at the island table.
Grabbing my coffee mug in both hands
not to let it slip between my legs
scarring skin from heat I felt before
just a different kind inside my chest.
Feeling butterflies nest in my rib age,
I question my surroundings, is a kitchen
a space for feelings and philosophically
complex thoughts to turn to conversation
in the early morning.
I see you stand over me
looking lovingly at me, a ghost
I wish to hold onto to.
To feel the warmth of a summer's day
in a hug that's not supposed to be our last. I see you crystallise to smoke,
where couldn't I see the cracks
that slowly broke to holes inside
our matched souls? I'll pack my bags
and run to the hills and stepping stones
on little streams along fields of growths.
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Sad Girl
PuisiPoetry from a sad girl Ranging from love to heartbreak, happiness to sadness and feeling low to depression and so on. I hope people find that they can relate to what I write and by taking in the words that they find healing. All Rights Reserved Cop...
