I am running around in circles, chasing my heartstrings. The road ends in spike-strips and screaming brakes, I turn up the music and press the accelerator anyway, not caring about the rain slick bitumen or the cars that crash around me. There is me and there is my heart, and if you can't have both, please at least accept this broken thing beating in my palms.
I am tripping over warnings and logic and everything I keep blissfully ignoring. This book will end up kindling for a fire, long after it is hidden beneath my pillow and read by candlelight every night. There is you and there is your heart, and I know I cannot have either but I crave them both just the same.
I'm falling over the edge, reaching for you, grasping empty air. This ends in blood. This ends the same way it started: me holding out my heart to you while you tie yours to hers. There is you and there is her and there is this poem; being used to stoke your fire and keep you both warm in the wintertime.
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Poppy the Poet
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More stories from Poppy the Poet and writers in Poets and other communities.
Sinking Safe
He is the type of person to hold all his cards close to his chest, not knowing you can read them anyway. He doesn't mark his arrival and departure with a postage stamp or airport scene like the others. Instead, he slowly fades away like morning mist, not realising you admire him like a sunrise.
By Poppy the Poet6 months ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Lovely yet,heart breakung💖💕
This was so heart-wrenching! This line hit me hard: me holding out my heart to you while you tie yours to hers. A very beautifully written prose!