Untitled

He was the color of tan skin untouched by winter's sun,
but the blizzard lives on in his eyes.
He uses the weed to get high because it's the only way for him to get up in the morning without her touch.
Struggle is where he lives, where pain, weed and dance lives.
Dreams sold in bulk on street corners
only to be won like lottery tickets,
one in a million.
And he doesn't dare look down
because hell is calling him back to silver chokeholds,
and the shadows behind him are haunting him with the whispers of his regrets.
You see, he reminds me of times when I would cry out for his floating arms to let go of me,
while my heart begging for someone’s soul to hold me-
Rock me,
Love me,
Take me back to the days when his eyes didn't know how to roll that paper and have it be the only way for his face to hold a smile.
Trust me when I say the nightmares in my bed are calling me now,
while the dark clouds are following me.
I realize the world is upside down.
And we seem to have it all backwards.
We learn to love on the outside before we learn to love the inside.
We remember who we were before who we wanted to be.
Searching for answers from an invisible man.
The while the distance between us keeps getting bigger
while the world around us just keeps getting smaller.
I want to tell you that I love you ever as the ash falls.
I love you with all my heart, and not my mouth.
Yet you still urge for these words to brush past my lips and kiss the air with the breaths of my affections.
But my voice won’t hold me back
for I know he sees everything he wants to hear in my eyes.
But these affections only lead to pain as my mother tells me,
and my father's stories teach me.
And yes, even I sometimes wish that this time would be different.
But then I remember-
He was already gone when I first met him.

Comments

wtfreder

The truth in your words speak to me, I too feel like this. Beatiful

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. Keep expressing your heart.  

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