#fine lives

hi, (!)

this is Fine Lives, an online literary magazine. please submit, self promo, rant poetically whatever and send it here where it will be posted.  I’m back to having full passion for my passion project and fine lives and your writing excites me so so much.  Send your submission through the submit a post link or through [email protected]

I am one man of the world in the world of one man.

You are long gone.

Earth population: Me.

My friends are in my thoughts but my thoughts are my enemies.

What are you holding on for? What are you waiting for?

End it.

Best not to think. Count your footsteps out loud just to hear something human. So you don’t forget how words sound, how to say them.

One. Two. Three.

Try to remember the words to your favorite song again. Fail. Back to counting.

One. Two. Three.

I can’t walk for long. My footsteps begin to sound like ticks of a clock, counting the seconds I’m alive.

I don’t need to be reminded.

What are you waiting for?

Who are you waiting for?

En-

One. Two. Three.

  My hands pull me up to the peak of the mountain. I stumble as I stand. I swallow the view. It seems masochistic to want to see the empty roads, empty fields, empty cities from these great heights just to solidify the loneliness, the sadness, but it’s a sight to see.

All the bustling streets and crowded rooms, the hum of life: gone.

Oh, how you miss that hum.

Almost more than the ones you hummed with.

I take a step to the edge.

There’s no danger.

There’s no one around to hurt me.

I stumble slightly and I backup. My feet don’t find solid ground. The unsteady rocks propel my foot forw-

I’m hanging from the edge. I scream louder than I ever have and I scream again as I remember what fear feels like. I call out for help but remember:

I am one man of the world in the world of one man.

You are gone.

Earth population: Me.

My tears fall fast to foreshadow, lead the way.

My thoughts are quelled. Dumbstruck in the presence of what they thought they wanted.

My arms grow tired quickly. My grip loosens.

I call out again. I don’t care how useless it is.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want this.

The death of the last soul carries the most weight and I feel it pulling me down.

The adrenaline dwindles. My muscles shriek.

I’m slipping, I’m sli-

I’m falling.

A yell echoes through the mountains like thunder.

It’s not mine.

My eyes search for the who.

Earth population: 2.

I close them tight.

Earth population: You.

Why do you love poetry? What brought you to loving poetry/ your first encounter with it? Why do you write poetry?

And all those times, I felt like the fish being judged by its ability to climb Except I never believed I was stupid.

Yes, I probably never belonged in their world because I had my own And always, I will live in it away from people and their foolish ideas of what life is.

Send us your poetry please! we are looking for new poets to feature.