Posted in Poems, Uncategorized

Echoes.

When I look at him all I see are echoes of my faded circus dreams,

hazy-purple atmosphere

and

dizzy smoke filled nights.

I feel it all growing,

growing towards the luminescence,

palms pressed against my chest:

I feel the thorns press through

as the roses grow in my lungs,

they puncture,

they tear at the tissue of my life,

they destroy

and they bloom,

red and pink, yellow and white–

they bloom out to fill the cavern of my deflating lungs.

And I gasp…

blurred vision through which I can glimpse only him

as I crumple over

an echo of who I once was.

 

-Eva M.M.

Prompt :Echo

Let me know your thoughts on this poem in the comments below.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Author:

I am a young and enthusiastic writer, fresh out of highschool and into college at IUSB. I babysit and work and live life to it's fullest. I write. I read. I do yoga. And plan to become. Yoga intructers as well. I grew up on a farm and can't,t wait to move back to the country in my tiny house I have already planned out. Sometimes I'm a little melodramatic but rarely. I'm a spiritual healer, a hopeless romantic, a book worm, and very nostalgic. Thanks for stopping by.

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