Free Verse
Nothing Poetic Here
It's the 10th night of the new year. Every attempt to pen my melancholy sounds bitter. Every line starts with "why did you lie to me?". But I know the answer. You aren't an honest man. How am I supposed to mask those sentences, those feelings with a metaphor? I'm used to using my tears as pen ink but I've never used the blood of my wounds as pen ink. I'm glad you're doing fine. Great, better than ever. I know it's my silence giving you peace. My voice holds the thunder to shake that peace. Does the thought of me speaking up send a shiver down your spine? Tell me, what's it like? What's it like to know everything you touch shatters? Don't you know? Don't you know the least you could do is attempt to glue the pieces you broke back together? That's too much work isn't it?
By Bixi Hernandezabout 2 hours ago in Poets
