A mirage of breath
on a hot night.
Steam rose from
her lips as she spoke.
My heart gave way in
intervals—before it
broke.
A dream perhaps? It must
have been.
Yet the scars feel real,
they’re raised from when—
The verbal knife, plunged
past the ribs and lacerated
my heart.
I’m ready to wake now,
from this dream I never
asked to take part…
-
Author:
– NoeticNonsense (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 21st, 2026 20:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4

Offline)
Comments1
Surreal images in this piece. 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.