The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Adreyo Sen
When I was eight, I lost my voice. I was still
a manic surge, I capered and danced, seeking to be
the sunlight I always was.
But now they thought
I was storm, I was pressed
into sober dress, once so much more,
I was now less.
I sought to be in vivid smell.
I was unwashed and therefore more myself.
My presence was discomfort. Exiled,
I dwindled away.
I came to life again. I fell in love.
With you. My love was
the cake at your door, the phantom kiss
on the unfeeling shore that is your neck.
But you didn't see me.
Yesterday, I railed at you and when
you looked through me, I knew
I was not real. Perhaps I never was,
not even when I was
wind and air, inveterate
scatterer of the leaves and other people's
I woke up today and looked
into my mirror. I was no longer there.
#Unreal #Poem #Poetry #Ariel #Love #Folklore #Hans Christian Anderson #Lost My Voice #Vivid #Phantom Kiss #Broken
Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.