![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/64cf38df634a89001defd335.jpg)
when we finally close the doors and windows
from the hustle and bustle of this world
we could feel the tiny whispers of our souls
in our bed made of wishful thinking and scars
-
you are like a scabby wound
pus filling the whole space
between shapeless incisions
leaving unforgettable feelings of all that was lost forever
-
I hate it when you melt into the city
among the soft whispers of children, vehicles, birds
crushed under an unexpected amount
hurled out at you every time you turn your head
-
too many of your roles contradict each other
contrary to what we know so far, and no wonder
that you’re still standing there
having no clue of what will happen when
-
I’ll ask you to dinner one day
and say that it’s okay
to love more than one man at the same time
because life has taught me that
-
I wonder if it might hurt you in some way
maybe someday you’ll think that I was there
and now I’m not
and turn everything into a bad joke
-
to tell your friends and future girlfriends
that I was the best for you
but the problem was that you didn’t see me at all
are you still there staring at the red sky, doubting it was a fat lie?
---
Thank you for reading!
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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