Dan Enache Poet Free verse

Waiting Room

Waiting Room

You didn't love me, only your own fear of the dark,
a makeshift temple built from the wax of my body,
a waiting room with walls made of smoke and glass,
where you sat patiently until another oracle rang.

I was the backup moon, forgotten in a pocket of dreams,
a ticket in a long line for a gate that never opens,
I traveled through your veins like a hallucinating smoke,
while you counted someone else's stars, never mine.

You hated loneliness more than you ever loved any shape,
and I was the mirror where you watched your fear slowly dying,
a stopped clock in the station where you wait for a train to nowhere,
a longing carried in your palms like warm and foreign ash.

I flowed like a strange river through the sleeping city's veins,
colors exploded inside me like stars dying slow deaths,
and you were a dream I dreamed that someone else was dreaming me,
a spell spoken in an old tongue only silence understood.

You kept me in the drawer of things marked "maybe, later,"
an umbrella for rain that never came to soak you through,
and while I burned like a nameless candle in the wind,
you were searching for a bigger flame, a light less tired.

Now I'm smoke rising from a station with no trains,
an empty waiting room, echoing with forgotten footsteps,
and where my heart used to be, I carry a glass globe of old snow,
where it snows only your face, melting slowly into silence.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment