Tell my ghosts I'm coming home.
The tranquil waves lap at my bruised feet, the sand tracing the scars like a broken art. My eyes set upon where the sinking sun meets the sea, where I know, beyond the infinite line, is the home I've forgotten. I feel my skin burn at the heat I've grown unaccustomed to after living in winter frost. I feel my skin slowly crack like parched earth, showing the hidden tragedy underneath. As one tear falls across my mud-streaked face, the sea of my own making rises, drowning me. And before my eyes close forever, I see one face, his face, staring emotionless from the canvas I've painted. The pastel colors start to blur, turning into words he has forgotten I've said. And the chapped lips he used to kiss whispers against the rushing current-
I love you.
YOU ARE READING
Written Constellations
PoetryA constellation of prose, poetry, and verses spun together for a galaxy of love, life, heartache, and hope.
