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Literature Text
In the night I still hear the sound of her voice,
Gentle, like the quiet rainfall.
My eyes threaten to join in.
I remember your face and your hidden hands,
And every beat of my heart
Smashing my chest like it was trying to get out.
My ribs still echo with it,
Like my chest is cracking open.
Three years and still my chest is cracking open.
The dawn is darker than when I played Apple.
Outside it sounds just the same,
I can taste the tears still.
Three years old, when I screamed out in the kitchen,
While you made another kind of scream,
That I could not hear but I feel it now.
I feel the echoes swirling around,
Like my head is breaking open.
Three years and still my head is breaking open.
Gentle, like the quiet rainfall.
My eyes threaten to join in.
I remember your face and your hidden hands,
And every beat of my heart
Smashing my chest like it was trying to get out.
My ribs still echo with it,
Like my chest is cracking open.
Three years and still my chest is cracking open.
The dawn is darker than when I played Apple.
Outside it sounds just the same,
I can taste the tears still.
Three years old, when I screamed out in the kitchen,
While you made another kind of scream,
That I could not hear but I feel it now.
I feel the echoes swirling around,
Like my head is breaking open.
Three years and still my head is breaking open.
This needs a third verse but I cannot quite think of it. Perhaps it will come to me or perhaps it will just have to be this.
Comments5
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Urf I love the poetry you make out of being sad and/or distressed which is horrible of me. Because you're distressed. But the wooooorrrrrds they are so good > . <
(What is Apple, how does one play it? >.>)
(What is Apple, how does one play it? >.>)