It was heavy, the pen in my hand,
Drifting into the quiet, blankets pulled tight
But the warmth is gone.
I look at the rosewood table, scarred,
As I sit beneath the weight of a moment.
Papers scattered,
But nothing worth seeing,
Except a short poem.
I read in grey,
And it scared me, how much it reflected me
Fake friends in the distance, their faces blurred,
And I\'m scared again, by the words I wrote.
I took a breather, but the air’s too thick.
If I could count every second,
Time might slow.
You said \"I love you forever,\"
Yet I am nothing to you
A shadow fading from your dreams.
I remember that night,
The words I left behind
The silence in my mind,
On Christmas. I apologized. And you were silent.
I try to keep chasing the sunset, but it slips,
But I\'ll keep going.
Then the wind howls and reality hits
that I\'m still lost in the past.
(look at my past poems and its not that bad of a poem)