Adventura, Poetry
Comments 2

First Love and Its Aftermath

Far away
from what’s normal
far away
from saudade,
far away
from worry.
I have a secret.
I have something
to lure
insanity
a little closer to me.

Have you ever
felt a love’s
aftermath
after meth?

If you rub your eyes
in-between cries,
Things start to seem
so blurry.
You will see phosphenes,
unsettled and afloat.
So pretty.
If you ignore the
dim edges,
semi-consciousness,
dangerous recklessness,
of it;
You will float
on lucid water
where hinges unhinge.
You will see me.

I like the
beauty of irony.
Agony never felt
so,
very
lovely.

But just
how many more
undone pinkies
and unmade beds
must I leave behind
until I fill
this gap
of abandoned
sweet nothing,
until nothing
loses its meaning,
Until nothing becomes
something
else?

2 Comments

  1. I'd like to think that “happiness” is a typical social obligation. It's okay for the writer to feel sadness in small doses sometimes, it does not necessarily mean that she's unhappy. Thank you so much! 🙂

    ~ Liana Azwa

    Instagram | Twitter

    Like

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