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Abby 1d
My heart was buried with you that day
I was left numb
Holding the weight of the emptiness
That space were you were not
That space where joy had left

I walked around on autopilot
A faint outline of me
Just visible on the surface
With a burning, crippling pit inside

I was beyond the muddy puddle
I was face down
At the bottom of the murky river
Cold
Stuck
Surrounded by darkness
Slowly sinking into the mud
With the weight of my tears
Like a fallen tree holding me down
I was not trying to get up
Because I had no strength to
No will power
No heart  
If I never came back up
I would only see you sooner
And that
Was the only comfort I could see

And then
You spoke to me
Clear as day
And you used that serious voice
Only used for serious things
And you said
And I will never forget
You said
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare. There are good things to come.”
And like a bolt of lightening
Shot into my chest
I pushed my head out of the water
With a breath of life
And you offered me back the empty jar that was my heart
Before you
Back when
Bottomless trenches
Coerced with whatever was left
With lullabies as morose as
the winds that we believed
gave us the frozen whip and
brought us back to life.
With what voice has ensued
me to regret each decision that has led
me further away from you.
Still-struck by a twitch of sparks
that was created in the midst of my agony

Before you
Back when
Foundations collided with fools
A casual wreckage betwixt the hate
A self loathing beyond measure
Broken and
Bedridden unto forgiveness
Willing and waiting for failure
that has justified my roots
And condemned us to pointlessness
Unable to remember
Which shattered memories built the love
That has sadly
Sunk into the abyss

Before you
Back when
I can’t tell which was then
And which one follows
the intentional pursuit to happiness
That we juggled with our bodies
While love making had a purpose
And finding ourselves in souls we
deemed liable
Can never be forgotten
Yet I must choose
To remember something else

Before you
Back then
Hell is nothing more than a passing
A stop in which I got off
And never returned
Yet I can’t deny you of such an illness
What comes after is only pain
What will do I have to find you again
Failing at a game,
You did not even wish to play,
Conscripted into reality,
Without a say in such an act.
Play the game,
Or lose it all.
there’s a suitcase
in an unmarked grave
bearing your name                

inside
my former self rests
alongside a fragment
of a ship
which floats no more        

that fateful journey
on the wings of sorrow
is buried forever

in a suitcase
fastened with three locks        
          
it’s my immutable, final
          ~ I love you
beautiful bright baubles
            helium infused

carry my melancholy

along with the final wisps
              of silken thread

from reawakened fingers
Where does the sun go,
When he’s not in the sky.
Does the moon know,
Or does she just cry?
I’m darkened by you,
Twisted and broken,
I’m lost in a sea,
Bitter and frozen,
I’ve lost all I could have,
And gained all I could not,
I’m destroyed by the actions,
You seem to have forgot,
I wanted you there,
I needed you so,
I was just a child,
Why did you go?
Faded as that 90’s graffiti on the train station walls,
Old locomotives, their engines cease to spin and sputter.
Little mice, too famished in their task, caress cogs and messages,
From places, too dark to read, the notes pile up.
Some, I think, may be blank.
Some, I could not read, as I scribbled those promises too fast.
A great mound of empty words made from a tree now dead.
The cogs move no more, I doubt they were ever connected before…


In line for a one-way ticket out of this grave land,
My baggage gripped tight with both hands- makes it difficult to keep in check,
I try to hide it with a smile, no one offers to help.
Surprisingly sullen, my every movement seems to echo from bold, cold walls,
The insignia behind the ticket master’s house is sprayed in red and it reads:
‘This was always a one-way trip’
I bite my lip, try to understand how to turn menace into sand,
This station is run by ghosts. I can feel them watching from holes in the wall.


I was asked by a stranger, “why did you come here”,
My staggered recoil from justice and reason must have been enough,
When I looked back, my persecutor was lost to an empty hall,
And the bones of this room can be seen when it breathes,
So clear, not seen the sun shine in a long time,
Startled like a bird falling into a pool, I wonder why I came here at all.


I talk to the ticket officer, this hat worn low, talking from a dark place,
I want to know, “the time of the next train please”,
But the man only holds my gaze, from beneath his low cap
Motionless, the spindly man holds all the cards, then blows away into the wind.
Left his own station in search of tracks. Somewhere remote
The sun is shining, and life is dead upon this new day.


Perhaps it is too early, I sit and wait for someone to talk to,
“You know that bag must be awfully heavy, please let me carry it for you”,
I shake my head and grip what is mine a little tighter,
“Don’t be afraid to let me in, I only want to help you free your light”,
But I don’t care for skin or bones, I set down my bag and watch,
The man of bones, with dreams larger than his stake,
Perhaps, if you were not so far away, you would have the strength to exist,
I look up to see the man who tried so frugally,
Met by dead air, perfectly comfortable- without a friend in the world.


I take a stroll down the decrepit tracks, cold air grasps at skin and sense,
Just to see the colour of the rust, and what the reaction was,
The trains and tracks are turning bitter-brown and discoloured purple,
Holes are manifesting themselves into the carriage, much less comfortable than I ever knew.
I step on the dead cartridge, much less comfortable than I ever-
Reliving a time when the carriage was bright, and laughter echoed the halls,
Far down the musky, dark-grey scope, I can hear the faint sobs of a child,
Inevitably, I find the kid, small and frail, sobbing into his hands from under his hat.


“Dear Michael, this carcass is the last place that I expected to find you”,
I kneel down beside the boy and tell him what comes from inside”
“You didn’t spend much time here when we were alive, I am leaving you Michael, your world is cold and dead”.
The boy trembles before sobbing turns to cold laughter,
He lifts his head and I peer into two dark and empty sockets,
Pristine, white bones contrast the encroaching darkness,
Michael tells me: “There is no leaving this place”.


The skeleton child’s words are empty.


A little while down the track, darkness pours from every crack,
Each train looks as dead as the one that was mine,
I follow a trail of disfunction to the end of the line,
Where I find a train, most unlike the rest, its silky black skin has been kept intact,
Monstrous, foreboding and intimidating, the conductor keeps the fire stoked,
Red mist puffs from the window, horror stagnant beauty feels and flows.


The walls of the carriage are meticulously decorated,
Framed pictures resting on crimson silk, a life frozen in time,
I am not welcome here,
Presently, a feral scream from far away- the engine room,
A mad man armed with fire eyed fury,
Jackal Rushes through moment and memory in fear and panic,
The first thing in this nightmare clad in skin,
The man stands still, full height, coloured in… I look into his eyes:


I fall back through twisted carriages.
Light.
Butterflies protecting fire from rain.
I sleep safe knowing that no one thinks of me.
I am writing a book. One day a character wanted to say something...
Billie 4d
Suave hair
Sharp suit
Glinting buttons
But your hands,
They're wrong
Posed.
Anad not by you
Its a block of ice.
Where have you gone?
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