So here I sit,
The near dead of night,
The cicadas calling to each other softly,
A muffled car softly buzzing past, the fence holding back the sound,
Off the rumbling engine and tyres on the ground.
It feels like a storm is stirring,
60 Days no rain, but a drizzle that hit today,
The wind slowly sweeps it's fine fingers across the dreary leaves,
Caressing them in a dehydrated slumber, willing them to keep living just one more day.
So I sit here, listening to all the sounds but avoiding the thoughts in my head.
I don't really know where I find myself today.
In-between a restless sleep and a tiresome day dream.
My head still swarms with thoughts of yesterdays past, and tomorrows new beginnings.
It's a feeling of stalemate, between two champion chess players.
Both feeling the frustration that neither will win.
But for me, I just wait, my head slightly sore with not knowing what to do, what new challenge will next come through the door?
What even do I think, feel or show?
That's the problem, I don't know.
My heart is broken from a relationship breakdown,
Disappointed that he was not the man I thought he was.
Yet an old love stays by my side who I have longed for, for so long.
How can one be happy yet not? It's a feeling I have struggled with for so long.
I feel so alone in my words. No-one can possibly understand how it is that I am feeling, So I speak to no-one of the thoughts in my head.
Instead, I just smile and say that I'm doing just fine for a while.
These thoughts, feelings, things I'm dealing with are mine, and I just need time.
I wish there was someone I could talk to,
And I do indeed miss you.
But you lied, the fire in my heart died, you aren't the man I thought you where.
It's sad to say, for the dishonesty you have to pay and to this day, I will never trust you again.
So this leaves me feeling blue, disheartened but not defeated.
When there's so much to talk about where does a person start without the tears tricking down their face,
All I want to do is cry, but that wont help, not right now, not in this place.
The rain hasn't come yet, and the storm is still brewing.
So instead I stay sitting, typing this poem, listening to the cicadas call to their mate, finding a partner to carry on with their fate.