• Rate this poem
User Review
4.67 (9 votes)

The Afterlife Of The After Party

written by: Amel Bashford


I write from a hardly healing heart,
Of tired cliches that catch in my chest
As I vomit forth stanza after stanza
Of indigestible inadequacy.
They say that the best inspiration
Comes from a broken heart
Then why do the words fail me?
Those mellifluous metaphors
Are phantoms of a better time
My broken body and broken mind
Have stranded me in memories,
As I stand looking in the mirror
Thinking, where the hell did the party go?
My life has become a roundabout
And I hover on the precipice
Never knowing when it's time
To close my eyes and jump.
Consumed with fear at the prospect
That I missed my shot and this is my lot.
To watch with frustrated impotence
As the world races on without me.

Amel Bashford

Amel Bashford

My name is Amel Bashford and I am 28 years old and a mum of two. I have been writing for as long as I can remember and have always had a particular passion for poetry. My dream is to publish my own book of poetry.
Amel Bashford

Latest posts by Amel Bashford (see all)

Read previous post:
My Forgotten Life, prose written by Camille at Spillwords.com
My Forgotten Life

My Forgotten Life written by: Camille @gowerrichelle75   I am a part of what humans call “ industrial farming” My...