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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1947418
alone with thoughts
I sit here quietly whiling away the hours, slowly pulling ‘it’ closer,

like a cancer patient awaiting... or a teardrop stubbornly clinging to cheek.

Stay here my new love; we can polish the ebony of the night,

and together stave off the advances of the upcoming.



The beautiful secrets no longer reveal themselves shyly to the touches of thought;

a never-anymore parting of sorrows takes their place inside of vision instead,

turning landscape features into monsters that prowl the near horizons,

and add to the shoeblack-bright of immense distant turmoil.

This coffee grows cold as time eats away at my stomach lining.



My thoughts collide with each other, bruising the inner workings of my mind

as I take another sip of cold, calculated reality, and in my head there is a list

of meant to be’s and never was so’s— making me believe that I am destined to die

categorizing all that which could have been.



Come to my dreams tonight and have a peek inside; it’s not unusual to find me there,

tracing back my own steps that brought me closer to the shadows,

thinking that by going backwards I might find my way and return to the light,

but you know baby, this night seems all encompassing,

and maybe some dreams were never meant to see the day.



Yet still somehow there is a spark of hope, casting away enough bafflement to see

the wheels of mine own faults grinding, and the burden I lay bare and burning

at the gathered offering of your life.



And another tear stubbornly refuses to fall, gliding instead down my angles of jaw-line

finding its way to the hollows of my neck, silently tracking the path reserved for your lips

while quietly, another night in the waiting room passes, and I fear for you.



We can share this sadness baby; together through the trials that befall I stand ready.

Know that I hold you in my thoughts tonight, and dream for you a quieter reality

while I battle the demons that arise from this deadly silence of vacuum

and wait to hear your voice come to me unharmed and safe.



Another night shoulders the coldness, gathering it in and pressing itself close,

and another half empty cup of coffee waits out my sleep to greet me in the morning,

mocking my feeble attempts to hold back the night monsters

armed only with the light and heat of this single flickering candle.



And through this lunatic flight of darkness, my love, my only wish is for you—

to focus on my light while battling your own monsters that rise between us,

pushing to separate, while bringing us closer together in taunting geography—

and for my love of you to warm your memory in those sterilized hallways you pace.



I would bear the dreadnought vitality of this sudden weight for you, if I could,

carrying it with me through the passing of yet another sleepless journey

while I sit here quietly, wiling away the hours, willing the phone to ring.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1947418-In-the-Darkness-of-Not-Knowing