Streets of Solitude
As threads of pale winter moonlight shine upon rippling puddles,
broken reflections stare back,
setting the scene
in lonesome streets of solitude.
A bitter, harsh wind blows in from the raging river.
Reality sets in
as goosebumps coat barren, gelid flesh,
exposing bluish, translucent veins.
Leaning against icy bricks,
my breath, like smoke, rises into the atmosphere.
Touching it with bare fingers,
I try to grab at the last semblance of warmth that reminds me,
whilst a biting silence overtakes the night.
Your voice still echoes in my mutilated ears,
replaying all my insecurities on repeat.
The darkness within could never be quelled—
this I warned you time and time again.
Save me from the flames, you tried,
but they have been licking at my soul
since I drew my first breath.
In every reincarnation, every lifetime,
I watched as it seeped into your heart,
washing away your light,
replacing hope with shame,
love mangled with hate,
until even the air around us became tainted.
Each touch more toxic than the last,
ripped apart by generational curses
placed upon my forehead at the altar of my birth.
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