she was the soft, careful ring of a piano being played.
she was every note, mixing and blending together into the most beautiful sound.
she was the loud, consistent beat of a drum.
she was each hit, clear and defined,
resonating deep within.
she was the soft patter of rainfall against
a window on a cool october day.
she was the smiles and the laughs
shared in secret.
she was the tears and the sobs
shared with no one.
she was happiness and sadness simultaneously;
she welcomed the joy and then ripped it away.
she was the bandage on the wound,
and the knife that created it.
she was the sunshine and the thunderstorms.
she was everything someone needed.
and nothing they could have.
- a.
10 / 2020
YOU ARE READING
shoebox | a poetry collection
Poetry" 𝑖'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒙 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒃𝒆𝒅. . . " - a collection of poems written by yours truly - " . . . 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 . "
