I left the lavender painted room of our love
Cracked walls of old memories,
Board windows of the unwanted broken entries.
Outgrown twin beds of lust, trust, and fuss.
Mirror reflection of the truth vs the lie. Lastly, a pillow with sponge laughs and fluff goodbyes.
༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚
At gunpoint-I stood frozen,
Whiskey eyes, sullen.
Stormy skies—
My freed lies.
I kissed him one last time, I know he'll commit a crime.
'𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'there's that love he promised.
'𝑴𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆.'Whispered at my calmest.
༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚
Underneath the rooftop lies the frame that was labelled free, however, a prison to the equity that resides within the walls. A stair built up to let more in but none out, a freeze just to stay alive. Before I could understand my very frame and why it was built that way, why labelled free yet only know bondage, I became a slave to one and a toy to another.
༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚
We will not be silent
for you
in our grief.
We will weep
and wail and moan
and make you uncomfortable
with shrieks in sharp tones,
unending
as the wind whistling
high and piercing
in the night.
These are sounds you can't
control,
just as weather
comes and goes.
You can shut your ears
but you will hear it
in your soul.
Our dead are deafening now.
Too many to count.
And you will hear them
in a cacophony of mourning
as you summon sleep.
You will not forget their chorus.
༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚
Perhaps there's
a greater love
beyond this life
that we're unaware of,
a love
we're forbidden
to dream of.
A love that is
not meant for
the eyes,
only the soul
is capable of seeing
and experiencing
the love that is
not meant for the flesh.
༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚
Thinking can't be good for you,
your brain was made to be racist,
the enemy within.
Trust us when we tell you,
we think and do all the work for you.
It's nothing like before
you get everything
if you hold on to our cards.
Play the victim,
call out those still roaming
without chains,
we all need to be free,
take the chains it's for the good of all.
Lying is good only if it comes from freedom town.
One door in and
no way out but preach it,
it's freedom here
all doors lead out or in,
your choice your way.
However, everything
is our way and no way.
Beneath the frame
tangles the chains
of one who got tired of freedom
but had no way out.
He slumps to
and dangles fro
with eyes staring at nothing.
But the news says suicide however,
we saw it different.
Why die when you finally have freedom?
જ⁀➴ Hey, it's the author. The credits for the poems go to the respective writers. I don't own any of them nor have I written any. If you like this, like/comment anything you like. If there are any mistakes please politely correct them or inform me in the comments.
With love,
〜F <3
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The tale of BLOOMINGDALE.
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