Short poem

“This is it. I’m done”,

Is a lie

I keep making. 

Just when I see no reason

In continuing,

I look back and 

Irrationally decide

To give it one last shot.

I’m pretty sure that one’s called

A thousand times before.

Because I’m a stubborn believer

Of endless second chances.

With my mouth,

I declare my defeat.

With my feet,

I keep going backwards.

And so in the end,

I am stuck.

While everyone else has moved on,

I keep giving chances

To the ghosts of the past. 

Advertisements

Cheers to the gray days

Here’s to the half-meant smile.

Alas, they will be all gone.
Lo and behold the light graze

Of a long time friend in pitch black clothes

I know I’ll follow him soon.
No more hollow emptiness,

no more trying or begging to feel-

anything.
The journey began,

almost as easily as counting 1 to 3.

I knew it,

when I closed my eyes-

my friend held my hand-

and never opened them again.