Pistanthrophobia

    I couldn't help it,

    could I?

    I wouldn't stop prying.

   

    I shouldn't have seen it,

    but didn't I?

    I couldn't stop crying.

    You don't need water.

    No.

    

    The bottles,

    the cigarettes,

    the paper,

    the plastic.

    It all added to my dreadful rotter.

    So,

    You grasped for the answers.

    Why.

    Why.

    Why?

    What did you find?

    Me.

   

    Your friend.

    Your ally.

    Your everything.

    Not he,

    Who writhes in your agony,

    taunting your reliability. 

    You're bleeding again darling.

    Must have been the pain.

    

    The rain.

    The train.

    The illness.

    

    Your veins,

    almost empty.

    Almost drained.

    I was blue.

    You were white.

    

    We made a sky,

    but it's too dark and I tried.

    So you turned me into a starry night,

    dark but light.

    Far too dark.

   

    I feared you.

    You did too.

    And now I'm painted with fright.

  

Author's Note

I've wanted to write something about this subject for a little while now but I didn't know how to do it so I just wrote this little poem. I wouldn't say that I have pistanthrophobia but I have an idea as to what it's like.

Reviews

[terry smith]

the pain in this is written beautifully :)

[Dominik D. Rites]

thank you ^^