Je ne veux pas...

Senseless and sightless
"Once there was a window,"
she swore,
She makes her own, now,
out of colored rocks.
Some are small
some wall-sized.
Lucky few are filled with flowers,
little Romantic scenery.
Most are broken shards
etched with words her tears have cut:
"Je ne neux pas mourir tout seule."


Melee said...

Moi non plus.

I love the yearning in this, it's lovely. <3

Lilah said...

ever i hope you are okay and this poem is not drawn solely from your own experiences
its beautifully written though.
there was a point in my life where i envied inanimate objects,
where i thought not feeling or thinking would be bliss

Philosophia said...

this is beautiful. especially love the last 3 lines. :)