Fruit uneaten to the seed,
A glance at the heavens
Halting inescapable rot,
Here it lays brown and withered.
A chronic flicker of a lamp
In the corner of the room
A temperament that festers
Frustrated at the change of endeavours,
Waning moons missing pieces,
Resentful, longing for the sun
Indescribable hunger for a glimmer
over torrential nights,
Yearning like a fire
Begs to be fed
Reaching out to darkness
The bed, now half slept.
Restlessness crawls within bones
A tormenting
Unrelenting
Wind in the cold,
A soft low hum within the safety of four
Walls,
An unrecognisable sound
Without an ear, joyful to be here at all.
Fruit will soon bitter with frosty mornings,
Unnurtured,
I plant myself in grounds
Sullen with the season.
I broke up with my partner of 6 years for reasons that are lost on me now, and the last 2 months have been spent feeling incredibly lonely and when the noise quietens I find myself to plant my two feet on the ground in the way I would have hoped to by now.