All I hear are words
a facade of feelings inside
so used to hiding.
My own mind is spiraling,
to sounds of a past
so nostalgic,
I cannot come to terms with what was said.
Your voice still lingers on,
quotes on wisdom and strength,
configurations of the person
I once knew seem to pass me.
And I still sit here ashamed
on what I did,
I wander helplessly not knowing
what to do next.
If I could say the truth,
would you here me out?
Would you give me chance to explain,
and let me out?
If you could see me now,
I know the things you felt.
Don't turn your back on me now,
I have something to say.
Smiles, have they faded to frowns?
Am I Mrs. Cellophane,
can you see right through me now? (Am I that invisible?)
I have now seen your pain,
the distress that you went through a couple months ago.
It's inviting my heart to mend this up,
I'm not going to disappoint you now.
And still the same music brings me back to you.
I know now, I'll never get over this.
Let me hide these make-up smeared tears from you.
If I could say the truth,
would you forgive me?
If I could rewind,
I'd be the best you've ever had,
you'd be glad.
And I wouldn't disappoint you.
My dreams seem so vivid,
they somehow repeat itself.
In reality they seem to be
illusions in my head,
of what I want things to be.
Will these come true,
must I wait and see?
Here me out,
I want to speak the truth.
Sure we had some time
to forget about it.
But I can't let these feelings go,
you have to know,
what I really feel,
can't you spare a moment with me?
because the next time I speak with you
it might be too late for you to see,
the truth.
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Author's Note: To Fall. Red Ribbons float everywhere Author's Note: For those who run away. Author's Note: I wasn't going to post this, but a friend found it melancholy, as if she saw a pain that never left, so I decided to post it. It's the longest poem I have ever written in my life. I don't expect you to figure out why I wrote this. If you know who this is for and why, I don't expect you to tell me. There is no game of guessing, no pretending, just the truth, the pure truth. If I were to die today, Author's Note: I felt like writing about sewing and stitching. Inspiration sometimes comes out of nowhere and you write on... |
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