The past stretches behind
A shackle to what was
Letting go of what was lost
The allure of what we were
Locked behind doors
Waiting patiently to be free
Into dreams of paths not taken
Choices that can’t be unmade
And the thin slivers of light
That make it past the fog
Heartache’s luxury breathes where lights burn
the thick smell of pancakes and fresh blueberries
passion wakes but all was lost ere it started
words falter in the debate of will or won’t
A mad dash for someone to hold
and lost amidst the jasmine
soft smells of resin and yellow pollen
unable to speak.
There is a thing in movies and TV shows and in books where despite everything that the protagonist does, every action taken. Despite it all, the person they love is killed or dies. And it destroys me each time. It rips my chest open and for a minute it’s like the door is opening again and I see her, laying there, dying all over again. Every time.
No matter how much time passes, there are things that will trigger me back.
I’m torn between wishing I don’t experience that again and never wanting to get to the point where I feel nothing.
Because if I feel nothing, I will have lost that last piece of her.
But I also don’t want the person I love now to get the impression that I somehow love them them less. I love madly, deeply, completely. And I love you.
Drift and burn
as descending into brittle nightmare
surfacing into dream
out of madness
pain and chance crowd in
giving and taking
as chaos is sown from order
burst through doors made weak
spiral into vortex
wherein choice is denied
as decision was made before the breaking of the world
and it was always you
Only this moment exists. Everything else is either a promise or a dream