Was it last night
when you held him between cold metals,
And his tears forever silenced
with one cruel pull?
I remembered I paused to coo at him
While he was asleep in his cocoon,
And he was probably dreaming
what it would be like when he woke up—
Sadly just a mere thought now:
A story shattered in a writer’s mind;
A piece that would never get written and read.

He took my heart with him,
locked inside a cookie jar,
the cold chamber that would likely see his gradual rotting.
If one look could kill,
I’d probably gaze at you
until you felt what it was like to be deprived
Of air to breathe,
Of beauty to see,
Of love to feel.
But I knew it would be

© Gheeneil

This poem also appears on Coffee Shop Poems.


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