#high #wod #meg_wn #skym

A brief summary : Here 'I' refers to a person who laments the death of her lover, he happens to have committed suicide due to his mental health issues. Here the skies can be interpreted as skies in literal sense or also as fate.


A poem that calls the skies harsh


The sky hangs,
Like a broken tapestry
Of blinding blue acrylics
Yet, when I ask him
If he's doing fine
He lets out a a blunt sigh.
We are nothing but
At absolute Zeroes,
You , me
Our sobs,
Your skies, my skies,
Our skies.
The colour of my sky,
Is the colour of your skin
Dark patches of our forgotten history,
Of togetherness?
I say.
Near the sun, the sky looks young
Like high and drenched in felicity,
As a whole.
I find you,
In a galaxy of euphoria,
Nowhere near close in the corner of my heart
You were reading a poem,
Cadaverous, I recall.
When even the skylines,
Couldn't deter you,
From your poetic plummet,
As I watched the blues,
Being harsh,
Once and first in their lifetime
Engulfing your living fuselage into,
Nothingness, that followed,
A hole in my heart.
You were too full,
Of bubbles of anxiety,
Grey smokes of anorexia,
Foggy panic attacks,
Of things in your head,
And me.
Yet you took the bullet,
It was too much, you'd say
I know it was.
And I dread the skylines,
While you weave a poem.
But, you took the bullet
Yet, I died the death.


©poeticgirl
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