Saturday, 25 November 2023

Holding a grimace at bay

 


Crying at night

so that his hurt was

hidden, downtrodden.

Out of sight.

No-one could listen

to the whistling

pain inside that echoed

through his shattering crystalline heart.

I stand outside, looking in.

The clockface shimmers before ripping apart.

I'm staring through distorted mirrors

I see the pain manifesting over

every bone into every moan.

Everything he had ever known.

Gone. Alone in an empty home.

 

Another mirror, another time.

I see him smile

but it's holding a grimace at bay,

barring it entry to his face.

Turn the lock, throw away the key.

Drown with me. He thinks.

Sink into this deep amber sea.

We float, with the ice.

We float down the drain,

like pissing in the rain,

it's all worthless

in this sea of pain.

 

Through another reflective surface

I see dead eyes.

I see rivers of blood rise,

I see yellow skin. Sunken tears

drowning within this dead sea.

Red tides erupting.

I want to smash the mirrors.

Scream. To sort it out quickly.

I want to bang on the glass,

say stop. Fast

but it's too late.

Too much time had passed.

 

I see the man regain his feet,

weak, broken, dazed.

Long days ahead. Speak.

I try, the glass muffles

the words when I do,

but I see a glimpse of recognition

as he stares deeper into the reflection

and realises he can recover from this.

At least he can if I exist.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 
 
Kyle

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