It began one dim Saturday morning:
I was the lost pilgrim around,
He was the most dignified luminary.
He turned out to be my stockholm syndrome
The closest thing I had to a light
We used to look around
Back then
We wanted to see the whole world
We wanted it all.
One morning
One sirenic morning I will always despise
We decided to look around too much
Down the street there was some goddess
She was gracious
It was nothing- yet not so pointless
From that moment on
Our string twisted
The edges grew distant
And then it happened
Oh no!
He stumbled upon the *****
Alas, that goddess who wasn't anything.
The air
It was sharp, so excruciating
The next day
I thought my system had broken
I thought my chest had burst into flames
(But I was actually overreacting a little.)
But still he is in my thoughts
I think
About how it all changed that a.m.
I am letting hope blaze
My eyes... Ouch!
When I think of that far-flung dream
The luminary and myself.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC