The narrow path between these strangers was a tightrope
And every grazing shoulder was a sweeping gale
My gaze fell like my feet did
And I could feel the emptiness between my icicle fingers
The air was as sharp as the pain in my chest
And my cheeks were stained like my memories were
Their profiles shuffled past like a deck of cards
And their images fluttered like broken butterfly wings
Where were you?
Everything was white–
Day caught on the frames and forms
But my soul had not caught up with the dawn
My heart was still pinned to the frozen hope of you
Gerald said this reminded him of Glassy Sky from Tokyo Ghoul, LOL.
I wrote this about a month or two ago, but it was seriously underdeveloped for a time. But my unfinished poems were sort of building up and I wanted to at least have one less poem that felt unresolved (I’m the type of person who can get restless without a sense of completion). So here~
young wordstream 