I dreamt.
I woke up and cried.
Cried myself back to sleep.
Swore I saw the eyes of hate through my curtains.
The evil in myself.
I tried to scream.
No one came.
The dream still remained.
I tried to forget.
But it was still there.
He's still there.
Here.
With me, in my mind.
My heart.
My love for him still haunts me.
And it hurts.
The tears.
The pain.
Shoved down my throat.
Forced into my blood.
Flowing around my body.
Like the emotions no one cares for.
The sweat.
The fear.
Of what was witnessed.
In dreams of horror.
Murder, killing.
My love, a victim of the gun.
The gun.
The bullet.
Which I would stand in front of.
If only just to save him.
My angel, in death.
And in life.
But me.
Unloved.
Unwanted, uncared for.
I don't blame you
For not loving me.
I wouldn't.
Author notes
As it says in the preview, I haven't added anything in ages and I feel like I'm neglecting my poetry/this site, so I thought I should add something so people don't think I'm dead just yet =)
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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very interesting, though the form seems somewhat broken and it doesnt seem to flow very well...but that seems to almost work for this piece.
on first glance it reminded me of the phantom of the opera,
"He's still there.
Here.
With me, in my mind.
My heart.
My love for him still haunts me.
And it hurts."
great write.
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