Imagined
What if the best days of my life were imagined? Just a little game of make-believe.
Empty with a lowercase "e"
And quiet with a large "Q",
The space behind my eyes rings
With the quiet emptiness.
.
I dream of summer days
That never really existed
And soft touches that were imagined,
Dreamt beneath a cloudy sky.
.
But the smoke from the fire
We held to our lips was real.
The vile taste and cool touch of the can
Wasn't something I conjured up.
.
Those days never existed.
They were filaments floating
On the golden current of sinister words
Filling the cabin with water.
.
I drowned alone on those leather seats
Without ever stepping out of the car.
The airbags didn't deploy.
The windows didn't crack.
.
A bullet was shot through my chest
And I am empty, empty, emptied.
These words are a cycle,
The same sort of sounds smoothed together
With the wet cement of lies.
No stanza can hold the pain pouring
From words coated in gasoline,
The flickering match in my hand.
.
Silver Serpent Books
.
I usually try to give my poems some amount of closure nowadays but this particular poem is much closer to how I used to write when I first started poetry. Let me know what you think!
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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Comments (1)
I think the open ending is cool and brings an interesting attitude to the piece!