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
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
hate love you