How can I wish for this part of my life to be over when so much I cling to the loss of it. What is done is done. A child taken too soon who nobody sees take a last breath. No casket, no belly seen and then suddenly unfilled. Aloneness. Deep depths of no return.
Pray Love take this void.
Pray hate to die in waiting.
Cry tears, heavy
laden like an army
tanker crushing the tundra.
Let them seep
into your innocence, your
untouched land buried with war.
reclaim your soul and
melt the darkness with their acid light.
If I could cry 5 million pounds of tears I would, but there would be 2.5 million still left inside me.
And if I could fill 3 planets with laughter I could burst 6 more (Pluto lives) with what my soul would still contain.
Sometimes I get tired and seeking solace isn’t very solacing. To expect is to work. But still, I find myself doing it, even, or especially, in the hours of greatest exhaustion. Tiredness leads to forgetfulness. And I don’t know what forgetfulness leads to…because I forget.
Growing is also work, but it is usually supposedly good for you. Growing pains. Is there anyone that doesn’t know about those?
I rise and fall. I grow and seek solace.
My heart has a full ache and I try to fill it with more.