Sylvie

For my Sylvie that i adore so much.

Madness screams in your eyes,
A museum of concealed truths and lies
Of untamed rage and unhealed scars,
An artwork of euphoric disguise.
So busy yet so empty,
Loneliness that they bury,
Bitter behind those sweet gazes
And I wonder if anyone notices.
Do your eyes ever smile?
Do your eyes ever feel alive?
Questions and expressions
Arose as we sipped wine
Whilst describing our eyes as something
So oddly, madly, dead to define.
And I loved it,
The way we perceived each other's eyes.
I remember your fumbled words,
As you struggled to frame sentences
In your messed up position,
Yet our poorly structured conversations
Were perfect enough for me
To write us poetry.

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

it is piercingly dark. treads the thin line between poetry and madness. i don't know who sylvie is, but i thought about the G.O.A.T Sylvia Plath. i read her works the way i read this poem. both this and her works carry a weightiness: it's as if life is a burden to havy to carry. anyway, as you might know, she died by suicide. i hope you aren't thinking about doing the same.

[seren]

Thank you so much !!
It is an absolute honor to have my words drawn parallel to the iconic works of Sylvia Plath. She's my muse and inspiration.

I also appreciate the concerns. Would like to reassure you that im in a good place and feel fortunate to have a platform where i can share my thoughts without any hesitation.

- s.b

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

s.b
that's good to know. i sometimes unload emotions here as well. know that i'm here to support you, as an artist, as a friend.

[seren]

Likewise ! Your support and kindness means a alot, i genuinely appreciate it.