1352

To his simplicity
To die—was little Fate—
If Duty live—contented
But her Confederate.

the etching of
reflection in a china bowl
full of water,
our love
uncovering tiny silver
stars on the horizon.

here i am, three months later still perpetually oxygenating the suffocated fantasy that one day i will see you again and my heart will remember how to pulse, my hands will remember how to hold, and you will somehow love me again

here i am, three months later spoon-feeding lies to my hungry brain, telling it "he will come back" spilling fraudulent words into my impressionable mind
"maybe he misses you too"
"it will all make sense in time"
"keep your head up, and remember you're strong enough to get through this"

here i am with a mind that fully believes you came into my life for a reason yet somewhere beneath those strongly wired thoughts, though i have no control over it, is the lingering pessimist that whispers in my ear when i'm sleeping at night, dreaming about the grace of your skin against mine
"he never loved you"
but it wasn't until this moment right now that, that pessimist has been truly heard

because i'm still here
after three, exhausting months, arms weak from reaching out for your grasp, lungs collapsed from all the dry heaving and half-breaths of missing you, and i'm finally looking at you
but you don't even
see me.

Concept: I am unravelling, seeing particles on my fingertips drifting like dust in sunlight. I am in all sorts of directions. There is no more pain.

Concept: I am standing at the edge of a great abyss, it is dark and unending and I am no longer afraid of it.

Yonder in time a boatman wait
Behind the misty white death his bait
carrying souls to an unknown land
his path same in journeys uncounted sand

the early morn mist clears to light
rowing close his passenger in sight
he checks the list of destiny for the name
yells to the shore to confirm the same

mortal soul to immortal land
the boatman row with steady hand
A distant melody the boatman sing
A gentle ride sailed with feathery wing

Time swift to the unknown land
The passenger be welcomed by angels hand
What hath thou have to pay the fare
Seek the boatman his journeys share

The mortal look towards the angels hand
What hath i got in immortal land
pointed the angel to a box of gold
Tis your treasure in heaven unsold

Yonder lay in the box of gold
deeds of the passenger in earth to hold
deeds of love and deeds of care
memories of past ever to share

Time stood its ground the passenger thought
He said to the boatman thou shall have all i got
why doth you give all the angel sought
To those on earth I owe in deeds and thoughts

A fare to pay for those who cant
To heavens abode the ride they want
leaving forth the pains and sorrow behind
leaving with sweet memories to the loved and kind

Not just today
In my memory everyday
As suns golden ray
A light along my way
In tis life each day
This heart doth say
Dear dad each day fathers day

I'm alone.
I have no one.
And no one has me.
Mainly because no one wants me.
No one wants my baggage,
My abandonment issues,
My mental illnesses,
My broken heart,
My need for constant love,
My need for constant attention,
My pathetic excuse for a personality,
My pitiful mannerisms,
My self loathing,
My need for a new home.
No one wants that.
I'm not good enough.
I've tried so hard,
Walked so many miles,
Seen so many therapists,
Taken so many pills,
Exhausted every option.
I just need care.
But until I'm able to heal from things I can't without someone to help,
No one will help.
Isn't that pathetic?
So I just sit,
Alone,
Knees clutched to my chest,
Sobbing,
Trying to forget the pain
That losing one person caused me,
And trying to convince myself
"I'm fine"
When clearly,
I will never be fine.

I'm broken,
like every poet is,
with words falling out
of a broken heart.