one.
i was once told i have a thousand faces
so i try to have a million personalities
in order to distract them
from noticing
the one permanent feeling i can never change;
the one lump of frozen emotion at the pit of my heart
weighing me down and
painfullyslowly
digging open a hole i once
managed to heal with
ice and solidity.
it is an uncanny feeling
at the tip of my stare
as they walk past me hand in hand
like a monochromatic thought. Without
a care in the world, their happiness
drowned me
with questions as to
why
i never could keep the life of such smiles
in between our hands,
before, when i had all the care
in the universe
to try.
two.
i am aware of a self-wounded tangle
i dwell between
but it is a comfortably
numbing realization
that no one else but i
can create such an extent of pain
to myself, now.
i am my own freedom
i am my own cage
there are sleepless nights
etched beneath my eyelids and
torture streaked across the way i
stare at spots for too long
every other ten seconds.
three.
i conjure with every blink of my eye
an artwork of pain
and it becomes more vivid
and much more tasteless
with every exhausted breath:
faded memories of a face familiar
who once stuffed so much into her heart
she forgot how to exert
the glow on her cheeks and sparkles from
her pupils that would
trickle down from
the deepest feeling within her
like a tear.
