He had such an old soul.
I felt the depth in every part of him.
He was as calm as a monk;
there was no doubt about it.
I sensed the silence in every corner of his heart,
but that was never enough.
I needed to know more.
The more I searched,
the more pain I never deserved.
He painted me in green, then in red.
I felt the depth of every shade he carried.
He was too clever,
yet I still painted him in blue.
Deep down, I knew it wasn't real.
I knew it wasn't true.
We looked into each other's eyes every day,
but cold words worked too quickly.
Distance grew before either of us noticed.
I never tried to tell him my story;
somehow, he had already understood it.
A complex mind,
and the games in between.
I was trapped there,
like a dead leaf caught in the wind.
I don't know where to go,
or where this journey will end.
It feels like an old curse
has found me once again.
-
Author:
The Biopoetist (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2026 14:56
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Sree
Offline)
Comments2
A haunting piece that caries one to another place. Nicely done
Thank you
You are most welcome Sree
A great write
I thoroughly enjoyed reading
Thank you
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