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Nothing.

Poetry at nearly 2AM.

By April Published about a year ago • 1 min read
Nothing.
Photo by Julian Hochgesang on Unsplash

The iron grip is the inescapable past,

Though I once ran to it, willingly, with my own feet,

smile on my face because you were all I had,

Tall, warm, and a sense of recognition were what I looked for in your eyes,

You seemed you were an honest, good man,

You should've known it meant so much to be near you when we were born in sorrow,

Abandoning the promise of love tomorrow, I lived only for that today so many warm summers ago and forgot your sins of yesterday,

The placated present of the past did not change even with the hopeful smile of a child during the next dawn.

Ever forgetful and always ready, the sun rose upon you, and looked the other way, covering it's face from your sinful escapades

Both our hands bled from the pain of trying to hold onto life,

My small fingers strangled the ledge of sanity and sought solace through the sting,

Look at me, Look at me

Only a little bit, just a glance

Just a small reminder you didn't forget me,

when you're leaving and going back.

Breathing and knowing,

Waiting and crying,

Laughing, loving

Looking in the mirror now, I am realizing,

You are me,

You had no one to follow,

It's a hard truth to swallow but...how could you be anything else?

A father's steady hand upon our shoulders was like the whisper of a ghost.

Did it ever exist at all to us?

The whole world was in your hands, a single life, that we share,

The whole world was in my hands, a single future, that could've been born

Why couldn't you seem to care?

My life, your life, was the whole world.

But you crushed it all into dust,

because another man you despise turned yours into rust,

forgotten and casted aside.

What do you do with all that time?

What will I say when the day you're gone comes

What will you say when you try to go back?

What will they say when they see?

What will the past show of you and me?

Nothing.

FamilyFree Versesad poetry

About the Creator

April

I grew up writing fiction for fun in my late tweens when I was learning about what fandoms were. I'd like to do it again now that I'm a woman. Enjoy and thank you! P.S. Constructive criticism is welcomed!

Poetry, fiction, journaling, etc.

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    Written by April