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love became a widow

fakehappiness

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Claustrophobic,

every breath scratches my lungs

walls are getting closer now

like a choir of unsung tongues

This room became a coffin

painted with the ash of doubt

and every prayer I whisper

comes back inside my mouth

.

My love became a widow

dressed in black beneath the rain

crying every single night

like she was married to my pain

.

The key to my freedom

is the death of all illusion

cut the wires from my veins

disconnect the confusion

If heaven built this prison

then hell left me the proof

I keep digging through the dark

searching for a missing truth

.

No windows for redemption

no light beneath the door

just reflections of the man

I don’t recognize anymore

I hear the ceiling breathing

hear the silence grind its teeth

another ghost inside my bloodstream

pulling nails beneath my feet

.

And she still mourns tomorrow

before the sunrise even starts

holding flowers made of sorrow

over the grave inside my heart

.

I buried all my memories

but they grew through the floor

roots wrapped around my ankles

till I couldn’t move anymore

And every lie they sold me

still echoes in my skull

like a broken hallelujah

from a world already null

.

The key to my freedom

is accepting I was broken

every scar a language

that nobody ever spoke in

Claustrophobic silence

still hanging from the roof

but now I wear the darkness

like a self-inflicted truth

.

A cage without windows…

still somehow lets the cold get in.

Thoughts

  • gwen64

    The line I copied out was the one about the memories growing back up through the floor with the roots round your ankles. We had bindweed come up between the flagstones by the kitchen door for years, you could pull a whole length of it out in June and it would be back by August, so I know what that looks like. The last line is the one that stays with me though, the cage with no windows that still lets the cold in. Do these come out in one go, or do you go back to them?

    Permalink

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Claustrophobic,

In groups