Feelings have spilled
on the floors of my chest cavity
swept aside to keep the peace
The following morning
it remains
scrub it with rationale
it slightly fades
Forgot my feelings were
like blood
messy, dyeing
each sense of wrong
gouges the heart
spilling blood inside the soul
takes me back
to memories of weakness
doormat-cy
Like Mob psycho
the little things
stacking until explosion
I scrub and scrub away
rinse and dry the pain
find a soft carpet
to hide and leave
cause such feelings can't be bandaged
on my own
best to reflect
and bury
as I was slightly in the wrong
this roof is not my own
It is not my place to avenge myself
I have to leave such feelings alone
and only pray
that my tolerance
doesn't suddenly vanish someday
About the Creator
Bianca Wilson
Author of Dream of the Cabbage Spirit on Amazon. Webnovel writer, simmer, poet and daydreamer.
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