Grief and mascara smudges

Mascara smudges
under red-rimmed eyes
where tears dripped
and burned
as I scribbled on my palm
sonnets of loss and grief.

Why is existence so precarious
as if every moment is spent
standing on a crumbling bridge
or beneath a burning roof?

I wished the world to stop turning
but life kept on moving
so I learned to move on
but still
I didn’t laugh for
quite a while after.

© 2020 Leona Petrovic

Image Credit Here

This is a poem about grief and losing those you love, whether it’s because of death or because they break your heart or get tired of you or just because you drift apart. Hope you all are doing well! XO, the inkgirl

Thunderstorm voice

Your voice is a thunderstorm
More often than not.
A rumble, approaching a roar. 

All I can do is quake and avoid your eyes
As the thunder shakes my foundation,
Reverberates through my bones.

When your face goes cold like that I know
What’s coming
A rainstorm of my own tears,
Threatening to drown me
As you pull me down. 

Why can’t you use your thunderstorm
Of a voice
To praise me
Once in a while? 

Why does it always have to
Be more anger
Than sweetness
When it comes to you?

© 2020 Leona Petrovic

Image Credit HERE

 

What fills my veins?

I often wonder about my veins,
and whether they are filled with blood.
Science says it must be true,
but sometimes it seems there’s only pain,
and crushed glass and icy tears,
an unlikely combination bound by fear.
As well as paranoia and mistrust.
But if those are all there, there must be some,
like love, and joy, loyalty, and liberty,
things that cleanse my soul and give it back to me
brand new and for a while all is right,
until darkness hijacks my veins again.