Tuesday, 1 August 2017

the longing for an end is never poetic or romanticised, just final.

I'm sitting on an empty beach feeding my drained soul more agony
Your hand reaches out, old friend
but it never reaches out for me.

I have traveled light years
praying I'd find you alive at the finish line
that the demons hadn't gotten to you before me
You empty me like upturned vases cracked blue wearing the bruises time inflicted like a legacy.
Pain is their only memory.
You are only regret . and filled with my empty my longing my desperate hands shaking when they search for you and close around nothing, shaking in the flicker of the dim light of your late texts , shaking  in the dark trying to find the light and afraid of it so very afraid.
You burn me like a supernova , you are at your brightest and I am set on fire.
I've discovered you're a deadly disease there's no cure for.
There's no healing after you.

I'm sitting on a damp beach my body wracked with feeling. I've had enough of being alive , being this aware , being this aware of being this empty.

I'm sitting on a damp beach when I get up and I don't know if you reach for me because I've already turned away , I don't hear if you call because the waves are deafening here, I wait for the nothing to claim me before I drown myself.

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