My sewn up eyes
Is that supposed to hide what you and I know is their
The stench coming in through your breath like cold air
Is that supposed to heal the pain?
The covers
Are they supposed to hide what you do not wish to face
Sleeping day and night leaving with the same similar bitter taste
Broken glass on the floor is supposed to mean that you deserve to be angry
Angrier than I
Madder than the anger within me
That has been inside me since I met you
With that stench on your breath
Fears you filled with death
Your looks are supposed to be the reason I love you right
Their supposed to mean I can't walk away
Wrong!
I don't
I never will again
Like the look on your face when I left
It means something is dead inside me
And will never live again
About the Creator
PoetsCloset
Even our darkest days will see the brightest light. A poet and a person with so much on her mind.
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The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English5 days ago in Fiction
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