She wants to be taken somewhere,
to feel the warmth of someone's care—
but the world has turned too cold,
like palms of frozen hands,
She loves daffodils and carnations,
tied with fragile string,
but they won't bloom again
as bright as last spring.
She longs to be kissed,
to be lifted where dreams drift,
cradling the night
in a soft, indigo breath—
yet she's so tired of flight.
She wants to cry, to laugh, to fall in love,
but her tears rest heavy on her heart at night,
like salt on rain-soaked skin—
worn thin,
all but spent.
If someone hurts her now,
she won't tremble or flinch—
for every tear
has already fallen.
𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒—𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒢𝑜𝒹,𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁.
𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁.
ৡ
Author's Note:
For every person who has loved deeply, ached quietly, and risen again — this is for you. Scars and all.
Thoughts?
YOU ARE READING
the words I kept
Poetry"𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓱..." these are the feelings I carried with me, thoughts I held back, scars I hid, and all the words I kept; my friend and my foe. Warning: some may be triggering, dis...
