2 A.M.
The clock's hands tick-tock back and forth,
Each moment longer lasts.
"I think I'll forget you henceforth."
I say, my words miscast.
Much like the night; they're overcast,
By my insanity.
A breeze spills through the open window,
A chilly profanity.
For muddled clouds do veil and mar,
The little moonlight left.
Your sleeplessness won't heal the scar.
You've left me so bereft.
At 2:05, you're still alive,
Quill scratching tattoos on the paper.
The notion of sleep evaporates,
To nothing but a vapor.
For what could be more treasured,
Than the love I have for you?
What is it that you waste away
And work so hard to do?
2:10 AM
Must I always be your second best?
Or third, or fourth, or fifth?
Please let there be some way on Earth,
To change this tragic myth.
Though work to me, you may prefer,
I surely can't come last.
Your hatred of sleep must eclipse,
Our rough and brittle past.
Tell me, do you give a passing thought,
To what I'm about to do?
Or will you continue to waste away,
While I obsess over you?
The rifle is cold in my hand.
The blade shines like it's sunlit.
I never knew his skin was so pretty,
Until I wore it.
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This creepy little poem was based on the prompt of "being chosen second," suggested by the amazing KHResurreccion, and it was done in collaboration with the wonderful DannyCepul, whose poem titled "second place" is based on the same prompt. Make sure you check out his poetry collection It, as well as KHResurreccion's Lament of the Bard. :)
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In My Mind's Eye
PoetryIf life is but a dream, I will never achieve lucidity. #6 in Poetry (2/14/2022) Runner-Up in the Metaphorically Spoken category of the Summer Sun Awards, 2016 Cover by Seth Yurchisin (IG: @sjyurchisin Note that none of th...
