Buddy

Showers from her eyes are epic,
hitting my flesh like ice-cold air.
Constant rain renders me numb,
fertilizing the fungus
thriving in my soul.
Is it so bad
that I don’t
care?

Submerging myself in vibrant colors
allows my mind to start
escaping harsh reality,
and broken shards of life.
But all the light in the world
can’t extract the dark
that swells within my
heart.

I dream of her security again
on relentless winter nights.
But I‘m not young anymore,
and I still can’t help but feel
she sheds drops of hate.
Redemption has passed
beyond my
sight.


-Bud.

Mikan_J_C

Such a powerfull poem to me, I can truly feel everything I know you must be feeling. It could be a personal thing to you, but I really didn't grasp why you felt the need to space the last two lines apart.

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sisyphyus

Interesting. Oftentimes when I write poetry I do something quite similar to accentuate the lines that I want felt and read in a certain manner. I get it. Interesting metaphors, especially fungus in the soul.

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I seek answers from within
only to realize I am without.
If not now, I ask myself when
My response is always laced with doubt