Four A.M. Exactly.
The shrill screams that had filled my ears,
Now a fading whisper, as my eyes escaped the sea of red...
Back to the absent hues of blue.
Cold sweat sticks to me; Just like honey.
Too sweet to consume..
The moon had whispered- riddles of love, and life.
Alike all words, no actions taken to place- Another restless night.
A ballad of howling wind, cursing at the white wash of snow that had taken out a fire.
Wrapped me in the cosmos,
Craddled me in a blanket of stars;
A constellation of my past stamped into the sky, outside your window.
May you look at me tonight
A monster in the dark...
An invisible orchestra of strings that crescendos
Below the surface of my chest.
That rattles my ribs to the beat
Of our waltz.
Sometimes, strings aren't pulled from the outside, but within.
Entangled by the webs,
Unable to move.
It's now your turn to try. Not mine.
Goodbye.
(Half asleep poetry with clark)
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.
