Call it beautiful

Reads: 64  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic



I will lock myself in this room,

with cinnamon candles and low lamp light.

I will forget to water the plants,

and hang those that have already died

on a sick sort of display.

I will admire the reflections captured 

along edges of empty perfume bottles.

I will not answer when you call...

if you call.

I will hide in thesewalls

and paipictures es in hues of deep reds.

I will re-read these piles of books

and stacks of your love notes.

I will stare at the ceiling fan 

the way I used to, before you,

and I will try to breathe...

and I will bleed.

I will let this heartache drip like hot wax

onto every blank white page within reach.

I will scream every false hope you promised

onto every. Fucking. Line...

and when it's all written down,

when I have turned my worst fears

into an artform...

it will spread through the streets

like a forest fire.

They will call it beautiful,

as this city turns to ash.

You will call it beautiful, 

then recall every way in which 

you let me down.

I will be here... 

chocking on the fumes 

of every sweet thing you let me believe...

dangling before the world,

from the silver linings you left behind.

It will be beautiful...or something like it.

 



Submitted: August 04, 2020

© Copyright 2020 K. A. Waters. All rights reserved.

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Angel Acuna-Robinson

There is passionately vivid imagery that make you want to indulge in the commiseration of this moment in time...it shocks you into a kind of state of personal inventory.

Tue, August 4th, 2020 1:33pm

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