I declare myself free of hope
I’ve given up on love
And left the love letters
To be written for others
But not for me.

I’m not what I want to be
I chase a distant future self
Really just deteriorating
Not living today
Regretting yesterday
for tomorrow’s sake.

Verily I accept my fate
With each passing night
the blame and sadness call on me
Like an old friend
with wedding invitations
to old familiar ways.

I accept
the gloom
the heartache
the melancholic substitute for meaning
the same dark and hopeless gift.

Such offerings are not given to anyone
Surely they must be attached forever?
Like a cancer that never truly departs
The sadness of the heart
Leaves little worthwhile elsewhere.