PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Down here,
I begin to wash these days off
I hear your voice on the radio
and wonder if I could ever flip the
record over
This is the darkest hour,
where the roses begin to die at my feet
Where everything around me becomes filled and
empty at the same time

I have taken down all the mirrors in
each of these rooms
I cannot put a face on, or
bear the thought of attempting it
Every ocean swallows me,
all at once
and is still no match for the depth of pain I feel

If only I could crack my soul,
and let a little air out
I would deflate like a red balloon
Or if not,
If you let me go
I will float madly into the blue sky and
never
ever
come
back
down