Our Pain

There you lay

Breathing so lightly.

Stretched out on the blanket of my bed

(A bloody red).

My room's a mess but you don't care.

If you cared I might clean up a little.

I might hide a little.

Maybe I would stop showing you

These bleeding wrists

And bleeding hearts

With their everlasting scars

I know you hate to see.

Your soft face turns to disgust

Just a flash

I can barely see.

I hate to watch you watch me cry.

But sometimes I can't help it.

Sometimes I would rather die

Than see you hurt.

To see your pain from my "pain"

Is the worst pain of all.

Reviews

[Patrick Henry]

I think this is romantic. When you are older and wish you had understood the root of why you have and had connected with others the way you did when you were younger, you may see stories like this one as "true Love". I have lost some people such as this.... one story is in my blog. Your empathetic tone is admirable in the sense that I am so f'n selfish to see this side of you because I really like you and the way you write!! I miss this kind of pain that seemed more natural at times than not, and the friends that shared the same pain as me.... just differently. : ) It's a beautiful poem, Taylor. Dark or not, the way you come through in poem is a real joy, as if to sit upon a bed as goofy tennagers and share each other's "horror" story that are carried away from the bed with friendly smiles that rids that sort of fear of not belonging or being understood. Beautiful, Taylor..... xoxo -Mark

[Kiara]

Thank you very much :)

[Sunflower]

nice write kiara, i love it very much

[Kim's Poems]

Deep, dark and powerful,
nicely expressed and written.