Broken

So, as it turns out, Rasla is not the only Blue House denizen to write poetry.  This was accidentally left in the kitchen, and while I know whose it is, I also know what prompted its creation.
When I’m stressed, I write deep angst.  Last week was finals week and everybody’s been suffering.  This belongs to a project it’s
probably best not to publish.

You were not there when I most needed you.
Be here now.
Through endless days I wept, longed for your touch.
Touch me now.
Dark nights I hungered for your warm embrace.
Hold me now.
I dreamed of tender words you might have said.
Say them now.
I would be safe, had you protected me.
Guard me now.
I thought you did not love me anymore.
Love me now.

Some wounds go too deep to be quickly healed.
Grieve with me.
Lost in the past, I search for my way home.
Bear with me.
In spite of all, somewhere are peace and joy.
Hope with me.
Please, never leave me so alone again.
Stay with me.

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About coruscantbookshelf

"A writer is an introvert: someone who wants to tell you a story but doesn't want to have to make eye contact while doing it." - Adapted from John Green
This entry was posted in Original Stories. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Broken

  1. Oh boy… I don’t even dare ask…
    Oooh, fireworks. I hope I’ll be able to sleep.

    Like

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