The well of phantom wishes
Was the well of my disappointments
Of all those illusions
That had deceived me
In a malevolent way
With their allure
And their way of
Misleading me
With fake smiles and phrases
Like lines from a script
But in truth, it was all fake
Every single thing
And every
One I had known, glimpsed
Were nothing but
Delusional
Realities
Beneath
A deception
A cruel deception
That dragged me down
Into that well
So deep and so dark
That I could not glimpse
Any
Vision
Any hope
My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
That beauty I had once cherished within me
had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.
What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
that moved around me but I could never reach.
One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.
The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.
My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
Elisabetta
