Hold my feet
Watch me fly
You are my step stool
But I shouldn't have trusted a wobbly stool.
You let me fall through the floor
Feeling my insides rip open
You covered my death.
Touched me where I don't feel like my own
I'm floating through a void
Drowning on words
Grieving through flashbacks.
You threw me back together like one of your puppets on a string.
A piece of property
That's what I felt like.
Alive but barely existing
Yelling is what I hear,
Cigarette smoke is what I smell,
Prediction for the worst is what I sense.
This is where you left me,
Don't bother picking my pieces back up
you didn't even sense my death anyway
When the girl I used to be died
she evolved into someone else
Who has risen from the dead.
She is hurt
barely holding her head against the water
but stronger than ever.
Someday she will pick herself up taking her pieces
You infected with your touch
And throw them in the trash.
But there's one thing she can't get rid of is
The lingering touch you leave
on her skin when you cried on her shoulder
As you falsely said goodbye.
Or the ghost kisses when you made her love back,
She never felt her own because of you and
for now she still remains stuck in here
Unable to truly heal and faze through the trauma
But when she can, she will cut the strings you controlled her with and
I will fly out of your reach forever.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholy - poem
PoetryEnjoy well written poetry that is relatable for many, in short or long entries each chapter. It is sad, motivating, and breathtaking to read with each part relating to things I've been through and others have been through too. It's a well worth it r...
