Panic.
I sit on the edge of my bed weeping
My breathing falters
Quickens and weakens
Thoughts creep into my head
I can't.
I run.
Cold air whip at my wet cheeks
Swinging idling by the lone swing that's still
You should be there.
Your hand in mine.
Emptiness fill the void
Memories batter my heart
Misery should not come from you
I was yours.
To love and to break.
But completely yours
There is no escape
No comparisons
Lost in this moment
Knowing nothing will change
This is me without you.
The lone swing begin to swing.
About Me
- Krissy Renee Bosworth
- I don't have very many dreams or goals that most people have, some that are definitely unreachable, but worth striving for. Every now and then I write a story in my head or pen a poem down. The only way I know how to express myself through words is through my writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment