I'm Crying on my Pillow MAG

December 6, 2010
By Joseph123 PLATINUM, Paris, Other
Joseph123 PLATINUM, Paris, Other
26 articles 0 photos 6 comments

There's the short snapping of tree branches
And the silver circle of a shattered puddle
As he runs through the woods
And I'm crying on my pillow.
I'm all alone in the dark of my room
Feeling the eerie draft drip through the window
And the hot ticks of rain on my face
And I'm crying on my pillow.
The sun is lost in a wave of gold and blood pink
The billions of clouds pushing against the stars
And the moon lights his beautiful face
And I'm crying on my pillow.
The night is drenched with the odor of wisteria
And the peach blossoms wave wildly against the sky
As he holds her delicately in his hands
And I'm crying on my pillow.
They spin around on the patio in a champagne haze
Both of them laughing and faking love
Faking love that will never sprout
And I'm crying on my pillow.
Because the moment I met him on the bus
And his blue eyes met my brown eyes
And my pale hand brushed against his
tan hand
And his red hair ran against my blond hair
And my lips burned on his lips
I've understood that I'm meant to love him
And I'm crying on my pillow
Because he doesn't understand that.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jul. 18 2014 at 6:49 pm
DeanMoriarty SILVER, Newark, Delaware
9 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Letting it get to you. You know what that’s called? Being alive. Best thing there is. Being alive right now is all that counts.”
— The Doctor

Your control of emotion in this piece is great, the way you kept repeating the title really made the poem feel like a whirlwind of emotion.


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