The Metaphor

Hey, so I wrote something. I’m sorry it’s sad. There’s a place for all emotions in poetry. Hope it touches someone.

Every morning I wake up taking my first breath underwater and fidgeting with a blade at my wrist

Whether this is metaphoric or not I still have not made up my mind about

My love is not for you

It exists only in a past time to your former self

Your yesterday and your tomorrow are both darkness

The former, the latter, the now

They stand tall in the face of giants we could have never faced together

The mountains weep

The stars tremble

The trees sway and sing

As love dissipates

Every bird participates

I cannot yet explain this melody my heart creates

But I know this

I heard once that nothing is real but love

I know now

that nothing real is love

I wake up every morning with indentations

around my neck

I breathe in the salty ocean air that rests only behind my eyelids

I know this can never last

I know this will never be

There is no hope for people made of paper

and rings incomplete

Wedding bells never sounded so silent

or streets looked so grim

I see you

You stand beneath lights that once signaled my return home

now denying your every pass at humanity

I see you

Cold-blooded killer

My dreams nestled in your shoulder

like the bullets in mine

I believe my metaphor died when you did

Thanks for reading.

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