I heard of the story from a distant friend
It was a travesty I think
At least that's what I've been told
I can't feel these things, you see?
Like the cold to the air on a summers day
I'm bitter and strange, unwanted
I'm missing relief
I'm missing myself
I woke up and got dressed
I saw someone staring back at me in the mirror
And, as I sat in the carpark, I thought to myself, "What was that?"
"Was I dreaming this mid-life horror picture?"
The tower block was packed that night
Full of the left-overs and the overnight numbness
I really did a number on things
The flowers I brought were long dead
Brittle and brown
I walked in and held my breath
I could not keep up
But I know that tomorrow is only today's dream
I'm still stuck at yesterday
-
Author:
A piece of luggage (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2026 16:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
A sad poem of what appears to be a bad dream
Friend, this poem is heavy. The numbness is palpable, and the honesty of it makes the poem linger. For that you get a fave, my friend! Well done.🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
I love the mix of reflection and description, well done!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.