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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #2296662
A compilation of my most beloved, but melancholic poems.
1.

Thought I saw a glimpse of you at five, drowning in sand and tears.

The tide soaking your shirt, grabbing fistfuls of ashes.

Whose ashes are they, child? For who do you shed such bitter tears?

My arms reach for you longingly, kneeling in the wet sand. Yet you keep drifting from me.

The tide washes over your ashen cheeks, leaving me in awe and sorrow.

You are drowning, slowly and surely, yet here I sit, digging away at the earth.

In hopes I can dig my way to your hopeless gaze and kiss it away.

Why are you sitting alone? Look my way, here I sit, making my way to you.

The withering skies clear as I'm about to scream, as if sharing in my sorrow.

Every night, you gaze upon your ashes and weep, as I helplessly watch.

The blue sky is a welcome change from the hellish, red storm drifting towards you.

Oh child, there will come a time whence you weep no more. The sky has promised it so.

I will wait for you to finally lift your head and gaze upon the golden rays instead.

It glitters the same as you do.

2.

Upon a morning bleak and grey,
The walls taking on a crimson shade,
Shadows of what once was shrieked.

Clutching your torn heart you weep,
For something you can never reach,
Buried 6 feet beneath.

"We were wrong to think,
His smile was anything but weak,"
You were who threw him in,
Into the pit.


Breaking what is shattered,
Cutting what is deep,
Tapped within your mask,
Not letting you breathe.

You are hollow, you are blank,
You are anything but sorrow,
Kneeling before the void,
Making melodies of screams.


Tainted hands and tattered cloth,
Penny for your darkest thoughts?
Endlessly dreaming, hoping to wake up.

What an artist, what a show!
Painting the landscape bleak,
Filled to the brim with
Monsters and streaks.

Spreading to the corner
Of something long forgotten,
A pool of silent feasts.

3.

Upon one summer's morning,
I aimlessly did stray,
The darkness had engulfed me,
And the rain steadily poured

Troubled in mind, broken in spirit,
I searched for an escape,
With every step a throbbing came
My fingers grasping my breast

Heaving along a narrow street,
The sky and earth seemed to meld
The blackest bruise began to form
As I tightly contained my chest

Crimson blood painted my skin,
In desperation I wedged my heart
Pressing and praying, tasting the salt on my tongue,
In hopes it wouldn't spill out

The painful staggering continued on,
Quivering bones worn thin,
When I came to I'd realized,
My destination's him.

4.

Once I had a little dream,
It kept me up for days to come.
He crept upon my back,
And smirked in my ear so.

Every touch was poison,
Every word a different taste,
There was nothing but the sensation,
Of his hands which brought me pain.

His tongue was a million daggers,
Perched upon my chest.
I knew nothing more than,
Those hands which held me down.

I writhed and squirmed,
Begging him to stop.
But his arms were as if steel,
In them was no escape.

He withdrew his hands,
With a strange expression.
His gaze melancholy,
As his fingers then quivered.

Before I could have known,
What could have happened,
He had gone away,
Leaving me there.

With the traces of his fingers,
And my aching thighs.
Face full of tears,
A bitten tongue.
© Copyright 2023 Rosalyn Wilde (rosalynwilde at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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