A Sunday in October and Mid November

Where do I start…
Is it even possible?
To mend what’s been shattered
Into pieces
Finer than sand
Smaller than atoms

That have been
split:
Nuclear fission
Rupturing through bloody tissue;
Burning like napalm through heart and brain and body,
Leaving nothing behind
Only pain and absence
Because I am not enough

On my own.

Never was enough,
And though I knew it
I dreamt I was…
No more green curtains
Or chasing wolves…

Just us:
In real time
For all to see.

But how could that ever be?

What fool believes that they are enough
To overcome a destruction so fierce
So final
So chaotic
So painful?

Destruction that threatens to take Everything and leave nothing.
But a single soul
Longing for a soul mate
Who’s been laid to waste in no-man’s land
Out of reach across the barbed wire of a love
that wishes to be boundless and free
But snags and tears
And tears
As you try, and fail
to escape its warning of suffocating coils
And slowly die in unknown silence.

 

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