The Hardest Thing Is Feeling You Everywhere.

The hardest thing is feeling you everywhere.

I see your reflection in my morning coffee,

I feel your warmth in the summer breeze,

I hear your whispers in my favourite songs,

But I still can’t find you.

The seconds count

Isn’t it odd that of all the hands on a clock, the second hand, bearing the smallest, shortest moments, ticks the most? Each tick sounds through our ears reminding us that every single second is an opportunity lost, or taken. And let us not abandon the fact that of all the hands on a clock, the second hand, bearing the smallest, shortest moments, is longer than the minute hand, and the hour hand. Because a second that passes could last a lifetime, remembered more than the hours and minutes and days that pass.

God

I thought that you were perfect,

Perfect for me,

And that we were a perfect combination

But now I see.

When you wronged me, I tried to look inwards to decipher,

What I had failed to do, what made me unlikeable.

But I was foolish and naive to believe that you were flawless,

And like a false icon, I clung to you for guidance.

Not a single apology was expected of you and it was my fault,

I treated you like some twisted domestic god,

So now it’s my time to accept our flaws,

And destroy the pedestal I placed you upon.

I was wondering why you two began to effortlessly blend,

You both seemed to constantly go hand in hand,

It troubled me for weeks,

Was there something wrong with me

That forbade me from entering your sacred ring?

Then it all came to fruition,

An epiphany at midnight, as sweet and natural as birds first flight;

The toxic group together with incredible might,

What better way for you to wallow in self-pity,

Than to gather in small numbers and complain about how you’re living?

So I’ve decided that I won’t let it trouble me any longer,

And for that I believe I am much stronger.

If that photo doesn’t terrify you then you don’t understand what’s going on

This photo is more threatening than the ones where they were being pulled out of their chairs and zip tied

Persephone

Don’t look for me.

For I am buried under the sand that you deposited in the bottomless sea,

I suffocate everyday but I can’t scream whilst you’re not listening,

I’m trapped in the time that you created and when I think I can breathe, the air is forced out of me.

I could reach out my withering hand and have you pull me from the dark,

But I’d rather claw my way through the hot pit to which I have been cursed,

I’ll choke, blinded as I fight my way upward, forcing your prison away,

Instead of accepting your hand, as you planned me to do, tying me to your eternal winter,

When I could be greeted by Spring if I only rely on me.

So, don’t look for me.

For I’ll be gone by the time your boredom forces you to wonder,

All that will be left is a whisper by the shore,

But when you realise the mistakes you made, saturated with your unquenchable hate

I’ll be floating with the clouds on the warm Spring air,

And I’ll be so big and so far away that I’m untouchable,

And when you look at me from the sand below, all you might receive from me is a brief hello.

So please, don’t look for me.

I’ll make it on my own.