SILENCE
And the words that must be said
Sunday is the last time I smiled at you with hearts in my eyes
I won‘t let our eyes meet long enough for you to notice their absence
Lying next to you these days, my heart sinks. I think I know what I must do
Envying the me who slept peacefully in your arms without reservation
Now I never sleep soundly, whether I am beside you or not.
Can you blame me for lingering, for delaying the inevitable? My first love
Even though we are not right anymore, my heart hasn’t gotten the memo
About the Creator
The Ground does not deserve you
There are places you return to out of habit, not belonging. Rooms that once held you because you didn’t yet know you had the right to leave. People who mistook your endurance for agreement, your silence for consent, your presence for loyalty. Coming back to the ground with clarity means seeing all of it without the old fog softening the edges. You stand in the doorway of your own life and realize that some of the ground you’ve been walking on was never meant to hold your weight.
By Elisa Wontorcik7 days ago in Poets
Fair Exchange, No Robberies
Dark Memoirs - Index There are at least two kinds of people in the world: those who write this half-arsed kind of intro to a story that looks to separate the rare and the norm, and those who realise it's an overused framing device and don't.
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