Tuesday, April 8, 2008

The deep resonance of a tired mind

The deep resonance of a tired mind. So clearly reverberating against white walled caverns. The sweet scent of despair crawls across my façade, a hint of a smile neatly wrapped for all to see. Where are my eyes? Are they lost searching for a soul inside?
Find me, hold me, rock me, just look without looking, and see me. Can’t you see I’m dying? Who stole the missing piece? I don’t make sense without you.
I pace indirectly towards your memory, lilting, dragging my feet. So painfully drawn to something that should have never been. With you I was sickly whole. My emptiness cradled your fears. So now I search for you in another’s eyes, now I walk alone.
Like a haunting melody, your imprint echoes inside me, cast like a wiry hook and line. I perilously struggle to set myself free; gagging on listless words, choking on the stainless decay. Like a sickness lingering inside me my heart hangs on your absence, your absence defines me.
Tasteless, odorless, poisonous, your memory. I run to the only place that’s mine, hollow heart, whimpering mind, even there you invade.
You know, you felt like home to me.
I've packed up the pictures, set your presence free; I wander around our canvassed walls, collect dust for a living, preserving the inevitable. Relaying, cycling, through each memory drawn to retrace your steps. The worn paths in the carpet, your favorite chair. Here I am after so long realizing your dead, gone, a memory living like a parasite on my broken back.
It’s too heavy to carry, your weighted burdens, your empty words. Clawing my way through the rubble carrying so many moments trying to save myself and save what you left me with.
Ashes,
Dirt
bones so brittle,
who can tell you from this baron place?
This mess is you; it’s us perfected.
Just let it go, you’ll find your way, empty your eyes and empty your pockets. Moving on, repeating the crime, captured inside your wilting sigh, its too much, it’s too late, its too far to run from. Breathing your ashes, letting the sandy tides of you slip through my fingers, gripping gasping you just keep falling, like the sands of time, gravity takes its toll. Buried under the remnants of something sad,
saying softly to myself its time to go,
its time,
its time to let go,
to let bygones be bygones, to stop searching for your imminent shadow. A phoenix flying above the wreckage, born out of the greatest pain, tempered, struck, heavy-laden, free.

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