Our last moments together
  • Reads 35
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 8
  • Time 28m
  • Reads 35
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 8
  • Time 28m
Ongoing, First published Feb 08, 2023
I slowly gain consciousness. Everything is blurry. My face is pressed up against something, its a hard scratchy surface, unlike a soft pillow the maids prepare I find myself lying on a wooden floor. There's a sharp pain on my side, my fingers are throbbing in the same tempo as my heart. I can't move. I try moving my eyes to see where i am. It's pitch black. A weird smell covers the room, it smells like copper.  I wipe my tongue around my lips and inner mouth. It's blood. I feel it drain from the side of my onto the floor. As I reach to feel my side, a sharp pain sensation accrues.  I continue despite the pain. I feel something. A dagger.
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𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺

100 parts Ongoing

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.