So many years and tears.
So many ways to fool ourselves that
somehow there will be a miracle;
we'll wake one morning and things will change.
We gaze at grey and tell ourselves
that we see pink.
Convince ourselves that today
a sign of improvement exists.
Shoring up against despair;
salt water seeping between cracks.
Hope and sand eroding
until there is nowhere left to stand.
No more shore - just a line
that cuts
and lets the saline drip
into the wounds
we feel
as our world ends.