Forever unhappy.
These words echo throughout my mind searching for a landing spot
as if my mind was made up of cliffs, instead of a straight cave.
                         Damage done throughout the years
      has broken off
                           pieces
                                 of matter
                                             from the sides,
seemingly making me unstable
when in reality each groove offers security to those
brave enough to enter my darkness and venture forth.
                  Forever unhappy
has become the theme of my penitentiary.
He wrote it as I felt it,
                    but when the earth shook with our last kiss it still didn’t budge.  
Emancipation- if there is such a thing- has failed to find me
                                                             despite the fact that I left.
I took a liberty walk into a straightjacket because the truth is:
                          I cannot escape him.
Since his absence, I have lost feeling. If I’m not preoccupied, I’m numb.
I press through the day normally
                 except for the occasional external
                                  faltering to submission
                                                    in doses of anxiety attacks
where my hyperventilation becomes a rhythm of its own
until I find myself distracted once again.
I’m forcing myself to be more involved with life, but it’s false hope.
                                  I know he resides in me,
waiting rather impatiently for my return. Lurking like a demon,
yet shadowed to preserve innocence
so when the light renders him different, we can both blame my vision.