11:30 am, Sunday, 21st January
You've been gone for the longest while,
you left like a summer as the colder seasons came,
filling the sky over with clouds of a darkened hue.
You left without a word – without telling me why;
it was as though the stars had gripped you in their
tender light and pulled you by a single ray,
pulling you along with them,
like the wind as it tugs on a paper boat.
But you're back and you've made it clear,
like a stark strike of lightening against a sky void
of any colour, you enjoy making your presence known.
I want to take you back, I really do – but you seem to give me no reassurance of whether you'll stay or whether you'll go.
YOU ARE READING
dysphoria
Poetrysilent pleas from a heart that's been tainted blue, a mind that ripples in constant turmoil and a mouth that remains shut //
