Tuesday, October 6, 2020

You Can't Hitchhike The Road Less Travelled...

Five months and eighteen nights have passed,
with an aching in my chest for your laugh.
Eight thousand miles later,
it feels like I'm still searching for that sound.
A reason for you to want to stick around.
One that isn't dressing my failings.

One look,
I'm reduced to a visceral burn to resuscitate hope.
Au Revoir Ambitions!
That rose in my lungs and died in my throat.
Blubbering tears hushing,
Eulogies I penned before you've croaked
and elegies for my house of straw
that rotted before it went up in smoke.

Oh but,
there's a hammock where I now live,
in the nugatory purgatory of everlasting guilt,
the only pit stop between fight and flight,
Thirty years and three months, I finally decide -
the first ride that arrives, whatever the fate.
Who knew that buses were always late.


~~~

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