Mozart

Anaisabel89

 

Please tell me that the door has locked.
I’ll pretend to lose my strength if you pretend to swallow the key.
I like to walk through different decades.
Mozart plays and I listen.
My senses enhance, the minutes go past while I caress the cactus by the window.
Perhaps spines hurt more than thorns.
I observe people from a safe distance but I get distracted tracing up stains left behind by the rain.
The kettle likes to scream.
Yesterday and I comfort each other in the living room.
Afternoons that promised what the outside world couldn’t .
Meet me again next year around this time.  
I will be slightly older but happier.
Just make me a promise.
Don’t start walking away until I tell you.
I’ll keep myself captive for a bit longer.
Mozart is playing and I have to listen.
  • Author: Ani. Is. (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 3rd, 2023 04:02
  • Comment from author about the poem: When social anxiety tinted my days.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 9
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Comments +

Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    in war, they term it
    'tactical retrograde'
    in life
    we call it retreating
    to survive, to fight
    and witness, another
    dawning
    of possibility...
    I laud your survival poetry, dear poet
    thanks for sharing
    music, is a wise friend
    to keep by our side
    in those trenches of life

    • Anaisabel89

      Thank you dear poet friend. It’s all about survival. Your words are oh so captivating.

    • Myth

      Hope is a gentle guest, fears neither thorns nor spines .. It will drop six sugar cubes in your boiling kettle.. Tomorrow, as well, would not ask you why you embrace such a pathetic yestrday..!

      • Anaisabel89

        Thank you for sharing this, I’m in awe of your thoughts.



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