My hair is messy when I'm sad
And when I cry my tears,
Just like waterfalls,
Overflow my cheeks
Until they reach my lips
And my face becomes a whole landscape.
Lips stretched out,
Assuming the position of a bridge.
Begging for help, but no one can hear.
Eyes aggressively red like Dawn and Sunset
Burning my bridges, destroying my remaining self.
And my curly hair, again,
Just like roots in the dirt
Fixes me to the floor.
Stillness.
There is no going back.
I write to let things go,
From running through my mind
To let them free in the wild.
But they do come back
In, out
Just like flashbacks of my old self.
I keep turning back.
I am stuck to the past
Stuck to the thoughts of who I was.
Only Sleep makes me feel protected.
He whispers to my left ear at night
And holds me from behind.
He is my Safe Shelter,
My Sacred Sanctuary.
In my dreams,
Living is so much better
Without schemes
Without screams
A misty, mazy landscape.
YOU ARE READING
Water Under the Bridge
Poetry🌊 "Water Under the Bridge", a collection of 16 poems, all of them written during the past few years. This project is about letting go of the past and embracing the process of healing, which can be difficult most of the times. But "Water Under the B...
