The beat of the drums are in sequence with her heart. Let's pull her apart. Drop the base and drum real slow, watch her fall vulnerably to the floor. Her heart is weak, no drums to beat it. Let's pull her apart. Turn the stereo down, her breaths are real loud. Quiet the noise, let's listen to her. She whispers through her gasps for air. Whispers the secrets kept in her pockets. The pockets of the pants that don't feel like hers. Whispers the secrets kept in the thread. The thread that lines the sweater that she stole. Stole from the man who ripped it off her. Violently like the beat of the drums on that heavy metal song.
The drumming keeps her heart beating
The drumming keeps her heart beating
The drumming keeps her heart beating
When it's silent, she is reminded of the white noise she heard when that man started to strip her of her poise.
When it's silent, she is reminded of the black vision she had when that man filled her mouth with a bottle of gin.
When it's silent, she is reminded of when she felt grey, she had seen when that man became one of prey.
When it's loud, she forgets.
Turn the volume up, blow the stereo, put her together, let's hear the drumming of that song that keeps her heart beating.
About the Creator
Namrata :)
just wanna be heard
ig: nxmrata
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Patience in Promises
There's something a little funny about patience. We're always promising ourselves that we will be patient. But here we go, doing things we said we'd wait for. We don't wait for nothing. Do we grab at opportunities with desire? or passion? or with selfishness? Longing for some attention, craving some affection, asking for some reason. It's killing us, we just couldn't wait until that day, and now it's stabbing us in the face. Oh how we've made a mistake. There's no going back, we wrote these promises in all the ink we had, and we can't make them disappear. How do we make them disappear?
By Namrata :)6 years ago in Poets
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