how many times have you gone back
to scratching your old wounds?
Healed, they stay there
reflecting a forgone time
of lost consciousness
and drunken amazement,
here you are
sitting and loitering
back in a time
that passed away in seconds
walking on a path full of
wet sand and cranky winds
they begin to define you now
and yet
you go back to it
for the kind of solace
that only makes you drop
down your shoulders
till world itself
rejects you sorry apologies
and half dead attempts
to go on in life.
How long?
how long have you been
waiting with your eyes shut
for your tears to push through
and take a final fall of resistance ,
to sit adamant on your dried skin
and lie unassisted
on your curling heart,
it bleeds no more?
are you listening?
to those murmurs
slow whispers,
thrilling silences;
they still talk about you
only this time
behind your back.
image- @pinterest
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