Thursday, January 21, 2010

My grip

The night is my enemy.
Trickling down my spine,
I whimper at life.

Just a zombie in a shell.
Wanting to die,
I write with tears in my eyes.

Sometimes I seek the pain.
Trying to believe its real,
I revisit our love.

The rollercoaster is all too much.
Thrown back down in a rut,
I resent this deal.

As a pair we gave and took it away.
Alone now without your heat,
I am really on my own.

The separation acted as a plan.
Never expecting a true end,
I am forever waiting.

So you see,
those elements of lasting love
and a dying soul
have the potential to fuel
guilt upon jolting sorrow.

Where I'm left with
a body flailing at sea,
flinching at the pelvic bone,
I suffer almost reaching you.

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