She was beside me in the morning,
Smiling at every word I say,
Every other’s company seemed futile,
What they spoke were just murmurs.
She was before me in the noon,
Angry like a cat with a bent back.
My life, which was given by her eyes.
Was being ripped off by her words.
She was behind me in the evening,
Tears rolling over her cheeks onto
The overpriced dress. Filling her bag
With clothes and me with rage.
The things I regret the most were
Done in rage; words and actions
Defy the mind, leaving it to regret later.
But not today.
She was beneath me in the night,
Stuffed along with others like her
Under my carpet.
Loved it❤️❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow that took a turn! Great work!! Keep them coming
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is slightly creepy I must say…Is this a dream? Take care
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is. It is creepy that people in rage do things and not regret it. It shows that people can be sweet but when in rage can be a totally different person.
LikeLike
right. well i know people in rage that do always regret it. even if after the facto. anyway. i think everyone gets enraged or regrets things. preempting they are not is thinking one possesses an omniscient power they really do not have (call that egocentric?) – no matter how almost perfect and conscious they are. hope you sort out your rage and troubles. nice week to you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Omg that ending was so unexpected!! I love endings like that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well-written and chilling! A peek into the mind of a serial killer?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great poem with a twist! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person