In the Emotionary, this poem is filed under the emotion: Grief.

Tapping at the glass, tracing strings of raindrop

Wafer-thin planes, dropping like dying butterflies 

Vacant pages stare at me, crumbs of yesterday’s toast rest beside me

I count as it knocks against the window pane 

Sitting on the tiled floor, clock ticking as to mock me

Lighting the candle, fingers sweep against the sunset flame

They say let it burn… just let it burn, but never mention how

I watch as the familiar wick burns out

Pacing along the whining staircase, smudged post-its trail behind

Fortress of books, chapters folded like discarded dreams

Unfinished drafts sink on the floor, their words dissolve to nothing

I drink up the bitter aftertaste

Lying in bed, sunken eyes await the sandman’s touch

Shadows prance on the ceiling, pen tumbles out of my grip

Weeks and months piled in the corner, a lonesome corkboard

I roll out of these crumpled sheets

Standing at an intersection, biting air beckons me

Trees bare like abandoned walls, journal peers from my satchel

Minutes and hours pass, blinking lamppost observing me

I need to decide which way to go

About the Author

Marielle Innah Valmores is an aspiring screenwriter and director. Born in the Philippines, she moved to Vancouver to take up creative writing. Her written pieces explore societal issues, female empowerment, culture, and identity.