Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

6 Days

I don’t think I’m angry,

anymore.

I don’t know what this feeling is.

This gnawing knot,

somewhere deep within me,

that I can’t see,

so I won’t acknowledge.

A detached ache,

when my mind lights up,

blue,

your colour,

in so many ways,

ransacked from the rainbow.

I don’t think I’m angry anymore.

I don’t know if I should have been,

but you told me once,

that you thought I was the jealous type,

and I typed so many heartfelt, hurt goodbyes,

that I think you must be right.

Blinded by tears,

devotion,

and mint coloured madness,

I cursed a continued stream of avatars,

that didn’t belong to me,

because you belong to me,

perhaps,

they didn’t deserve damnation,

destruction,

and devastation,

but I can’t negotiate with my heart,

when she is stormy and stubborn.

As you remarked,

I am an envious empress,

but only because you asked me to be.

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