Implosions

 

Everything has began to implode when the sight of your green eyes were set on her blood red nails.

My beating heart,

My empty words,

My hopeless life,

All have caved into the depths where there used to be light yet not now,

Now everything resides in the vagueness that I call bliss.

 

You were to be the one to fuel me,

bring me back to how I was once.

The one to add the orange and yellows instead of the blues and black colors of this life.

Yet I was violently torn down to fragments with the simple phrase,

“It's not you it's me.”

 

You were right it was me.

Maybe it was my fault for believing in you,

Maybe it's my fault for wanting you,

Maybe it's my fault for loving you more.

 

Unfortunately I lost you.

Luckily you lost me.

Now I'm left with nothing,

I have become imploded.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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