The Cinema
The seat is empty and forlorn,
Carpet like fabric with fraying ends encompasses yellow
Cotton that escapes from the rips and tears.
The arms rest separates me from it,
Wooden arms enclose me
Where arms of flesh previously enveloped my body.
Gun shots,
Girls shriek and find comfort buried in the front of a man’s shirt.
Flinch at the violence, refuse to wear weakness when the monster sings.
Interlock my own arms around the striped box,
Scared to place my hand inside,
It is too lonely to dip into the butter when it is alone.
The hero comes quickly,
He kills the monster, saves the princess!
A cliché predicted from the preview,
And love;
No blanket to warm my skin,
No soft breath to whisper in my ear,
No kiss to touch my lips.
I am just the monster who will never wear a crown.
My emo breakup/movie poetry. Sorry guys…
Blurry
Every day is lived in shadows,
Every movement is performed.
A reflection in a glass,
Constructed through a storm.
People see through crusted windows,
Half the story, and half its form,
Learn the start, find the last,
On a journey to be born.
-My attempt at rhyming…
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