Poetry

Untitled, Part 2

What good would crying do
Staining my bedsheets black
With bile and ink from my eyes
I lay my head down to sleep
I dream a dream of you
In the tears I shed for you

1 thought on “Untitled, Part 2”

  1. Oh, the circularity here is harrowing to read. The presented inevitability of the situation, inescapable tears that, in the end, what allow you to rest (well, implied, but still.) From the start to the end, it plays out not like laying yourself down to sleep but more like an interim between tears: from crying, to questioning, to crying again. It’s sorta similar to, and no disrespect meant, addicts sometimes question themselves but find themselves back where they started.

    Liked by 1 person

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