clocks don't tell the time E-Book

Isa Gagliardi

• Herausgeber: Grupo Editorial Atlântico
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 28

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

This poetry is for those who have been lovesick. In between loving and losing I became blind to reality. As a way to cope I bordered and flirted with insanity.

Leseprobe

I wrote this to make my thoughts, feelings, and emotions tangible. So that my love finds a home in paper and ink.

To the reader, Winter’s pain did fade. Not with time, but with what I did with it.

To mom and dad:

Thank you for holding me, crying with me, and telling me this too would pass.

I love you.

To those who are eternalized in these poems,

Thank you for the memories.

WINTER

Why would I want to let go

When freedom seems like a jail in itself?

You came and left

Like a wave.

Perfectly aware,

That it would leave me stranded.

Not a single shell

Or a single coral

Could forgive you for doing so.

It feels like I’m drowning under your control.

Although you’re responsible for the water,

You supply me with just enough oxygen to keep me alive.

I want to rebel, I want to yell. It’s too late.

Blindfolded, I thought you were chaining me to you.

You chained my left ankle to an anchor instead.

Pushed me away into the sea, and never looked back.

Occasionally, hardly ever

I would hear your low-pitched voice over by the shore.

All I could do was sing in the hopes you could hear me too, and know that I still loved you.

I started to sing day by day,

For you, my love.

Instead, I caught the attention of fishermen with lust in their eyes and harsh desire

on their hands.

When I turned their hearts to rock to resemble yours,

Their wives,

Their daughters,

Their sisters,

(My sisters)

Started to call me the wicked mermaid of the shores.

Oh love, if I’m the wicked mermaid,

Then who are you?

I am from the land of sun,

You are from the land of snow.

I hate that in our encounter

You left with a sunburn. The memory of you is on a golden pedestal.

I left with a frostbite. The memory of me is frozen in summer’s time.

My heart cries to keep you alive.

My tears warm up my cheeks

Like your fingers once did.

My vision becomes almost as blurry as

the memory of you.

I feel the pain in my chest

Like the day when you left.

The tissues

I hold scarcely replace

The fit of your hand.

Missing you

Is a painful way of keeping you alive.

Because if I want you gone,

It’s only because you haven’t left.

If I can’t have you,

Then how dare time

Steal the last specks of the memory

Of you?

But what’s the use of fighting against the inevitable?

The lights turned low

Feel like the void

That every inch of my body

throbs

by.

I lost the person I’d never thought I’d lose.

I lost them long before they were gone.

It has been long since I kissed the sun.

It has been long since the shadows immersed me.

If I cannot prove that you existed

No one will know that you are real.

But truly,

I cannot even prove that we existed.

I lose grasp

Of the imaginary and the past.

To the point that you became so utopian

That it sickens my stomach.

My thoughts shut down.

A distant voice,

Perhaps your voice,

Echoes into the nothingness,

The emptiness

That has become my mind.

But it blends into my own.

And a stomachache

Surfaces into

Shivers,

My left eye

Twitches,

My gaze turns to an empty cup, as if expecting

To find something

To find someone

To find you.

But it doesn’t.