He’s the kind of storm that wakes you up in the middle of the night with your heart in your throat

A game of leap frog

He’s good at playing dead

So clouds fill with uncertainty

You can’t distinguish shadow from dream

You flicker fate like a match

And then when hopelessness rears its ugly head, you spit on freewill screaming “get me out of here”

But ego is too big for the death wall

Silence is unbearable

Same as nonexistence, so we wish

We chip at wall hoping no one will hear

We clumsily break at porcelain until it crumbles at our feet

Maybe now he will know I was there?

I break things like a signature print

See, I was there

I did this

I’m to blame

But the only echoes you hear are nightmares

I approached the beast and lived

The unexpected

When he appears, he is a king tide

When death looks upon death, what does it see?

© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal

Fuck. You wake me up. I don’t know whether to be scared or excited when you appear.

How long now my love?

Even if your petals aren’t for me, I collect them all the same

Some as torn pages under my nightstand

I hate love you