My mind is a war zone.
Memories of you hit like bombs
dropped from B-17s.
Rattling me to my core,
then leaving me with the aftermath.
My blue skies turning to grey,
clouded with the wreckage
you chaotically left in your wake.
My mind is a war zone,
but the soldiers have gone.
I'm alone in a barren land
destroyed by what you called love
and choked with the fear
of what comes next.
YOU ARE READING
aching lungs
PoetryPoetry has always been a beacon of light leading me through the dark abyss I sometimes find myself in. When the waves crash over my head, when I am being pulled to the bottomless expanses of my mind, these words wrapped around me and pulled me to th...
