my days are numbered.
i can hear it from the crackling sounds of my bones,
feel it from the way my knees buckled in submission,
see it from the stranger in my own reflection.
twenty is just a number
and my insides has gone rottenβ
polished under the promises of youth
and passion,
i am now wrinkled and easy to burn.
a simple touch could cause an inferno
and the smoke tastes bitter.
i devour my ashes whole,
shoved it down my throat while i savor theirs carefully.
i am shocked by how we taste similar.
i stared them dead in the eye,
in desperate need to say that we are one and the same.
they glanced at me quickly
and a total eclipse was there,
yet they turned their head away in fear of being blind.
to me they are blind all the same.
today i adorn a light blue shirt,
playing my part just as how they want me to.
one last performance,
iβll smile and wave for you.
β by Gabrielle from Literate Cult.
Post #807
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