suffocated, i forgot how to breathe,
i woke up choking out on the ocean of your eyes
looking for them in my emptiness and
all i can find are blurry memories of a messy dream
i don't even remember seeing your face
but i don't think anyone could ever turn my sweet dreams into nightmares
like you do;
every sweet dream turns into a nightmare when you realize it's not real
this morning i am both
the beauty
of what feels like an illusion
and the tragedy
of looking myself on a broken mirror;
a hurting truth that i'm tired of seeing
like a ghost that refuses to disappear
you're still present in me somehow,
it presses where it hurts
it cuts where it bleeds
sand escapes through my fingers like your words on that
august 28th,
i try to catch them
wishing i could turn back to summer days
when sunflowers used to bloom on the top of my head
and you dreamed of soaking me in sunlight
but i open my eyes and all i can see
is moonlight
and all i can feel
is coldness
and the only thing i can't find
is the ocean of your eyes
where i want to drown myself;
i still look for them
with my head hanging off the bed
YOU ARE READING
the beautiful side of misery ¦ pink
Poetryart is nothing more than the way we have to express how beauty looks through our eyes but art, the real, purest and most captivating form of art is finding beauty where nobody else can so i slipped through the most morbid corners of my guts to portr...
