or maybe she really did.
The worst thing is I never saw
and I'll never not see again.
The last, frayed bits of string that tied
the battered ship adrift.
The roots of weeds both pulled and plucked.
The balloon that floats away.
Though she was just some fucking dog,
she was really so much more.
Though she was everything I loved,
now she's fucking dead.
I feel like I've been robbed at night
of the thing I cherished most.
But it was slow, this staggered fate:
twisting daggers as I bled.
I'm walking through the blemished days
listless journey, aimless path.
So how am I supposed to care,
of all that carries on?
and how am I to carry on?
when my heart has gone with her.
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