A thousand shattered pieces on a sticky lino floor sour, red liquid seeping into the worn rug’s edges No. That’s not me.
It would always end this way.
like a light, little leaf fallen on the dust to kiss it life, or like a gust of wind meant to blow it away from me
We both had enough of bad memories. And every time we try to create a happy one, what you did keeps to knock me off. I lost my grip and therefore, you lost me.
I’m like a thread, frayed at the end. Broken, because I lost a trusted friend.
The five sorrowful mysteries shudder within these pellicle walls, and they are not Enough Lost are the pleas upon deafened ears, what is the throat useful for Blood-sweat is fallen when waxen agony is traced with splintered fingernails The tattoos of repentance delivering languor for a broken mind, as meant to Nine tails cursing and cracking, rapaciously blinded for a statement to make Leaving messages across the fleshy pillar in symbolic stripes and hieroglyphic half-moons
It was fine
Living with a peace of comfort
Each and every day with time
Running out to please everyone
In a nice cosmic yet real display
I reflect as I view the past:
Forever have I held my tongue,
O’er fear I shall attack you,
Rather than confront the past.
So what can I do,
Please don’t stay,
Please don’t leave me.
And I pray, inclined to the retired hues of sandhills,
The moon had lowered its light to my hands,
As though I was passed by its shadow, never forgotten,
When the dark dusk covers the squill, a pack of doctrines
Laid memory in sight, emaciated by the mercy,
The cries caressed my overlapped palms to the words I impart
As these alone could not touch me.
One could find the forthright ghost,
Late at night, the night clocks out.
I lie in bed