EPIPHANY .
No text
No call
Nothing at all
Too many whys
To what he has done...
No.
You cannot wait,
when I know you hate
The way he makes you feel,
as if it was real
Just one last touch, so I can heal
Right in the head
Left heart is on the contrary,
I ask you this
What will you miss?
He will always be the same, playing endless games
Enchanting lies with a bitter prize in the end
Just this time baby, I like the way you feel
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something real
No more tears left to cry
I know it is time,
to say goodbye, to heal me anew.
Take away my blues.
Passion stems from the inner core and seeps out in every form.
Give but cannot receive,
not feeling the beauty inside me.
Is defenseless when I bare all
Graceful bliss as I fall,
Flat on my face.
Onto the tender thornes of reality.
Crawling back to sanity.
©️Senses
About the Creator
Senses
Poetry.
Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly3 days ago in Fiction
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