I used to see you up there
every night sitting on your lonely cloud.
Lonesome chords play from your heartstring over grainy PA speakers in my head as I watch you lay your heartaches on canvas and write your fears out
in a ballet of poetry.
As beautiful as these words are before me, I know that the tragedy of this elegy is
darker and much more painful than the drama.
I used to place you up there,
gently, in the rafters of my headspace.
While my thoughts wandered nomadically in and out of inspiration,
they all pass by the parts of you I kept.
The faint sigh after uncontrollable laughter.
The small wrinkle in the corner of your smile.
The way you changed the way I love myself.
About the Creator
W. J. Bradford III
my name is William Bradford III
I write poetry and create content surround each subject.
Ig:thesadder_chapter
Fb:thesadderchapter
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall5 days ago in Fiction
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