A miserable Whimsy

Do the leaves fall to the ground for understanding?

Does the moon reflect the sun saying “i understand you both burn in pain and light up in usefulness”; that yes you can be good and still be hurting?

Do the waves lap at the shore to keep it company does it retreat at high tide to give it space?

I lay out on the dirt, feel the crunch of the fallen green,feel the firmness of the earth that understood its brave fragility.

Getting up to let my person move,gazing up at the sun that let the moon exist at dawn, burning brighter from acknowledgment.

I finally come back to myself,

feeling the soft soil between my toes, looking up to far gone water, feel the sand sigh,soothed and seen.

When waking days are spent thinking of eternal nights, you are left sorting out faded memories stained with pain rather than making space for dreamed up stories, you hope to live.

I stare at the shell washed up on the shore, it’s been made solitary. Barnacles,the last of companionship it shall find. I can spot faded purple,orange and pink underneath the murk. Maybe if it was cleaned…

But what good would that do?

The act of service too late a notice for an abandoned house.

I can’t help but think of my selfish selfless acts at times like this. I repeat to myself that i cannot let them find out, for their own good…more so for mine.laying in my inevitable puddle, the rain I can’t control, shielding myself i can.i don’t. The feel of its hitting strokes,the comfort of pitter patter against muddy ground, the company of the cold that reassures my mind of its nature.

No, when waking days are spent thinking of eternal nights, you die.

will it ever be enough?

will i ever be enough.

will you drain the last pints of my blood, tear through the totality of marrow in my bones?

eat me hollow

to roam the rest of my days a living corpse.

Pure bliss shattered when the veil of ignorance was lifted by a single click;

a memory captured in time.

It felt foreign in this dark place, too large and yet stifling all at once.

The light left quickly after, swallowed by the hollowed-out structure,

as the surface curved under the weight of its returning shadows.

Its image, unlike its antecedent, stood rigid

refusing to be done away with.

The unwelcome truth pulsed through the cerebellum,

tearing down the base until it collapsed in on itself.

I grew up under your umbrella,

holding hands side by side,

as you shielded me from the rain you created.

With your pain you also comforted

and so i had no reason to uncurl my fingers

have no reason to unlearn your touch.

~a miserable whimsy