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So we're here again,
I'm crumbling before the wisteria tree
You're awake in your oblivion sleep.
I could talk like before,
But my tongue is numb
My lips are sealed.
I try to utter just a 'hello'
Over the telephone,
But the line fades
Into a prerecorded memory.
I have no tears left to leak,
No cuts left to bleed ,
And no words left to speak,
So where does this lead me?
I ask the clouds, walking through the spiralling past,
I ask the static leaves, I ask the sky, overcast.
Where does this lead us,
I plead- but your silence is all I receive.
I tried to reach out, I swear I did.
But how many times will be enough?
How did we get back here,
Where we'd begun-
Crying under the wisteria tree?
A catastrophe hits my house,
In my heart, I safekeep you;
By my voice I beckon you,
By my actions I beseech you.
The lightning strikes yours
And I'm the last one to know,
But somehow the only one to try.
Until when shall I walk
upto that door,
without an invite, without a prior word?
Each time, every time.
Once, I brush it off.
Twice, I laugh it off.
Thrice, I call you on,
Now what?
Where are we going to hide?
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YOU ARE READING
Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
