Notice of absence from clarity by me
crimson red is the color I see, i gentle my hands as I watch it drip, creeping through the pocket of my denim. As thick as it is, can never be enough for them, try to maintain but can only feel the pain. Longing is comforting, yet yearning is the beach at night, waves flowing, no light but the seeping shine from a lantern. Not enough, so it’s my turn, have to earn it. I can’t wait to leave. The light bends as it goes out. It’s light and I end.
crimson red is the color I see, i gentle my hands as I watch it drip, creeping through the pocket of my denim. As thick as it is, can never be enough for them, try to maintain but can only feel the pain. Longing is comforting, yet yearning is the beach at night, waves flowing, no light but the seeping shine from a lantern. Not enough, so it’s my turn, have to earn it. I can’t wait to leave. The light bends as it goes out. It’s light and I end.
Do we all remain still, melancholy only feels.
Clocks cannot define themselves as trauma.
Numbness clouds the mind; perhaps alternatives are the cure, perhaps not.
Feelings like a lock, no key, no access.
Will it always come to be?
Find the truth within the dead.
How did they do it, without a knot in their head?
Oh, I wonder how time being comes to this, little remorse I bet.
-
Author:
riri (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 5th, 2026 11:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
Clever and well worded this write wends its way from beginning to end. Nicely done
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.