Leftovers

Notebook writing.

I'm still holding onto the fireworks,
that came when holding your hand.
Scared that if i let go,
they'll kill my marching band.

My marching band plays songs,
they all remind me of you.
And im scared if they stop,
it will all be over again.

Am i being stupid,
or am i just still hurt.
Is the knife still twisting,
standing in this blood stained shirt.

Can you see im empty,
or have you already moved on.
Can't you see im screaming,
while listening to our songs.

Can't you see im bleeding,
self inflicted pain.
What once was a two sided story,
turned into a cheating game.

Author's Note

This is something i wrote a while ago in a notebook when i was living on my own. It wasn't wrote as a great poem and i didn't really want to change it because at the time it meant a lot to me.

Reviews

[Roger Turgeon]

I have a few of those...poems that will always remain as written, with all their imperfections as to rhyme and English, yet perfect for the occasion on which they were written