Like the bruise you forget until it's touched
Or the tear you only notice after it falls;
Like drowning with short breaths now and then
Or being lost in darkness with teases of light
This is the memory
The memory of a flower cut before it could blossom
The memory of a sunrise obstructed from view
The memory of a thousand possibilities being shattered in a desperate attempt to feel needed;
To feel like I'm the light, the breath, the tear, the bruise all in one;
To feel like I wasn't just there
That I was wanted and wanted deeply
Like ice cream after a long day in the sun
Like the inhalation of spring after a harsh winter
Like the waking alarms interrupting a long night
Like peace in war
Instead I am the period ending a sentence
I am the sign blocking the road ahead
I am the cloaked figure holding her scythe
I am the end.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poetry (For You)
Poetry"Poetry" collection poems, songs, phrases, etc A bit of my heart and soul in every phrase, stanza, line.
