The Writers Voice
The World's
Favourite Literary Website
Unfortunate
by
Whitney Hopewell
I find myself unfortunate
In the sense that I'm waiting for the moment when you find it in your heart to
Kill me.
Kind of sad that you toss me aside
Like a strand of my red hair
On your faded black t-shirt.
Where have you gone?
And what have I become?
Your comfort object
Pulled from the corner only when no one is close enough to see
How defenseless you really are.
Your heavy shadow, pulled tightly around my neck
Is still the only thing that keeps me warm
And the muffled lull of your faint heartbeat in my memory
Drives me to superficial rest
Only to wake and rip at my existence.
The fire in my eyes was snuffed out long ago
To be replaced by faded recollection
Of the nothing there never was.
Were you there?
Or were you too busy fixing your curly brown hair in the mirror
That you missed the focus of my heart sitting patiently on your shoulder?
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
