I only wanted to be caught in your embrace;
to take a warm shower in this porcelain hollow space.
But the shower, so cold
it slices away my tender skin.
The discomfort cannot compare to the despair,
transferred by your syringe of loneliness.
Like a disease of HIV;
the depression cannot be reversed in any way.
You injected me with your curse
and your thoughtful cries of hurt.
I cannot find serenity,
this shower is my hearse.
It's nice to hear from you. It's a shame that (presumably) you're feeling so melancholy.
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ReplyDeleteBeautiful and heartfelt piece. You're a talented writer, who can artfully compose your deep emotions onto paper. Sad, yet beautiful work.
ReplyDeleteA smile, an attitude, a verbal indirection, yet there is a significant human being in there. Your poetry is a veiled confession, which is also good for the soul. Your honesty is a note in a spitwad thrown toward freedom. You want to get out, but your pen, your keyboard, has taken you hostage, with its false security. Unless you turn yourself in you will end up hiding in caves. Of course, You can still run, but you can't hide forever. Turn yourself in!
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