Image

Echo

 

                                                                                                           It’s haunting me.
                                                                                                          The sound you make at everything I say. 
                                                                                                          Is it fake? 
                                                                                                          Is it forced? 
Is it real? 
Just like your voice?
The sound of your broken laughter echos through my head
that sound. 
The one I hear constantly at the back of my mind.
Not the sound of your voice when you say charming things,
Not the sound your lips make when you want to kiss me
But the sound of your pure joy. Your laugh. It’s the only thing that sounds real enough right now.
I miss it
I want to hear it again.
and again.
and again.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

Advertisements

I can hear them laughing

Not at you,
But at me.
I can hear them say things with certainty.
Like they know me.
I can hear them assume things
and then repeat it as if it were true.
Can’t you hear them?
They’re saying your name too.
I wish I could be like you
And not care.
I wish my laugh was louder than theirs.
Yours is.
That’s why you don’t hear them laughing.
You can only hear your broken laugh
and it makes you happy.
I wish I could hear my laugh more often.
at least for some time. 
 
 
 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

That girl noone knew

She would cry,

just to know what it feels like

She would laugh

just to know what it sounds like

She would fall in love

just to know what a broken heart is

she would cut her hair short and wear clothes that a boy would

just to know what its like to be a boy

She would play with her dolls

just to know what its like to have freinds

She would cut herself

just to know what pain is

She would pretend to drown in the lake

just to see if anyone noticed

She would tel him she loved him

just so that someone might tell her that

She would run fast

just to feel the raindrops beat her face

She had no friends, she had no love

She had no family, she had no laugh

She lived near the tiny pot hole,

that nobody came by because

it was in a street that nobody knew

next to the house which was far away

from the closest place, Aunt Carol’s..