It was a fortnight ago when I lost the golden boy, the tree's had begun blossoming in the moonlight above the riverside grey.
He sung and danced for me, we waltzed around, as if no one had ever seen.
I adored the golden boy, he had seen me;
the night sky has turned grey and I have not seen the golden boy since a fortnight ago,
he calls every so often, but only for words.
I wish he'd return my innocent soul,
I wish he'd shown me mercy, and known I was just a kid, not a fool,
He had no conscience
Messing around with girls half his age all while barely being able to see straight.
I fell right into his lap, like putty in his hands, and I prayed he would take care of the broken parts of me,
But he played,
until he got bored,
like any ordinary child would do,
But he was grown,
My trust was taken for granted, And some of it forevermore burned,
You may perceive the ghost of our past haunting thee
But this is only to see if by the grace of God, you have mercy. I was 18.
Yanna Vlahos
P.s. To my third love, Goodbye Carlson.
YOU ARE READING
Giannulas Chronicals,
PoetryMy first series of poems, Falling in and out of love, finding myself again, and letting go of old pain. Thank you and I hope you Enjoy. New additions may not be found at the bottom but within the lineup. In chronological order. -giannula 🤍
