I am afraid.
Afraid
that one day,
when all is said and done
and I am grey and old,
that the only stories I'll tell
will be ones of heartbreak and desperation
of the flesh.

"Sorry, but..."
The beginning of a simple message,
and the beginning of the end.
End of all familiarity and home,
end of possibilities and blue skies,
end to all expectations and sunrise...

Clouds cover the sun,
coldness takes over.
Breath hitches in your coarse throat,
wetness builds in your eyes,
as your heart breaks down.

"Sorry, but..."
A phrase that has become a frequent visitor in your life.
A phrase heard over and over again
like a broken record.
But despite the pain of it all,
you never learn.

With each utterance of the damning phrase,
the words pierce your flesh even further.
The end of all things...
And the frustrating part?
There's nothing you can do to stop it.

So, you smile,
salty water dripping from your eyes,
chest heavy,
wind whistling through the hole where your heart once was,

"I understand."

You text back,
hands shaking,
eyes fixated on the two words
displayed on the small LED screen.
But, sorry,
it doesn't mean that I'm not hurting.