It was like a cold chalky hand,
Grazing it's index finger
In between each notches of my spine.
It's breathing a low, hoarse short of soft mumbling.
The pain was sticky on my wrists.
It's nails were so sharp,
I exhaled in pleasure.
I didn't think it would stop...
With the october breeze dancing
With my bedroom blinds,
It shadows doesn't stray,
It's close behind...
The aray of the blues and yellows
That scatter across my walls like
Children at a park.
Their laughter a high shrill of excitement,
Shooting through my ears.
The ringing of their screams haunts me;
The echoes of whispering from unconcerned faces,
Strangers. To whom any could
Be someone familiar.
A sea of people,
Sharing the same beat in their steps, just as their chests.
Share "Hello's," just as much as they share "Goodbye's."
They will never be aware to the oceans of trees that stand so still at night...
Laying back against the slightly damp grass again,
My eyes opened up to the sky, and the branches above me,
A spiderweb of constellations reaching towards me.
The soft growing whistle of the winds as it sweeps across my face,
I couldn't move my legs.
My arms like roots, planted to the ground. Digging deeper through the soil
The air slowly becoming heavier, my chest becoming a weight within seconds,
Curiouser and curiouser..
As to where the light is.
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Gade 12- Present Day
PoetryFrom another guy in the world, to you. Words that aren't spoken, but remain true. I hope you find comfort in my poetry too. A rusted connection to my reality, because honestly. I've lost it.
