I worked too hard to
seal these wounds.
Shut them tight...
But I don't know how to
feel anymore.
Numb.
What comes after numbness?
--more pain...how far
away is death? A
morbid thought
I have to, need to
choke down night
after night.
When you held me for
the first time I felt
something so intense
so real but not we're
just meaningless shadows
ghost of our own horror
stories.
I want a happy ending for
once.
You never loved me,
nothing could keep you
from hurting me...
pour a heavy dosage
of salt in this beating
heart one last time.
Let it sear with agony
so I know what we
had was real.
Hurt me like you mean it.
The pain in your open wounds can be felt by the reader.
ReplyDeleteI really like the line "ghost of our own horror stories".
I think this poem is very, very good.