“Are you sure?”
She asked, holding her breath,
Fear, sadness, and a hint
Of betrayal rang out
In the silence, though her voice
Was just a feather of a hushed whisper
That was absorbed in the coldness
Of the moment
“I’m sure.”
He confirmed.
And she turned away from him,
The sobs stuck in her throat
As she covered her mouth
Like he used to cover her with a blanket
Pull it past her shoulders and kiss her goodnight
Of course, she’d expected this
But the internal pain
Was so much harder
When it wasn’t being imagined
And easily changed with
The flick of a thought
As easily as a slap on the wrist
Or the sting of a burn
But it lasted so much longer
And left a scar, the imprint
Of unbearable pain
YOU ARE READING
Chasing the Chaos
PoetryThis is just a little collection of poems and words that flow from pen to this virtual form of a dead tree in order to stem the passion that's bursting inside me.
