It is but the thoughts of a bruised heart.
If only I was strong enough to resist
the ghosts that I've made,
that whispers my name like a chant.
The topography of my sorrow is like a virgin landscape of slopes, mountains and valleys
that stretch as far as the eye can see.
Time only made the ache more familiar, a companion I don't need.
It left visible scars as time floated across the universe,
bleeding with more stabbed wounds from your actions and words.
My heart is a battered bruised thing,
but it still beats with a fierce and stubborn hope.
I'll find my inner peace in the stillness of the night,
when the night is quiet and the stars shine bright.
You remember the time we danced under the shining bright moon?
It's now a relic of the past, filed away in my mind,
waiting to be dredged up again with just a call from you.
But even memories are a double edged sword, a reminder of what could have been, and losing what was never found.
Am I supposed to believe in something invisible,
like the light that flickers in the dark?
I'll heal, I'll survive and I'll live becomes my mantra, to find peace.
And since each day passes slowly and the pain intensifies,
I'm barely holding on, to the threads of my sanity.
A smile that's more of a disguise, to show my pride of steadfastness.
How did it end up being so?
A question that haunts me, a memory that refuses to fade.
©yochanan
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