Heart

My heart. My poor heart. And all the secrets it keeps. More than this, there really is nothing. Maybe more than this should be more than enough. It should be enough. I'm just mourning what cannot be. That's all. Just grieving over endless endings, the concept of beginnings and endings. It's another day, a new chapter.

Why does it feel like the same chapter? I must have only taken a detour. Had a look at the scenery, those bright green leaves, felt how the air expanded my lungs, how my feet enjoyed the soil, under the bright sun, or in the shadows of the moon. Yes, it was only a detour.

Now I'm back, back to the life I created. It's not so bad. It's not so bad. I'll find excitement here again. I will. It's just faulty perception, I tell myself. Yes, faulty perception, a faulty outlook, a faulty way of being. I can fix this.

No, I can't. I'm helpless against this. I have to admit I'm sad, sad, sad, to the core. I have to accept that there are places in my mind I'll go to that he won't or can't. There, here, the sadness grips me more. As long as I'm on this page, I'll have to surrender to it.

I take off my clothes and slip into bed. I imagine you there. You don't make a sound because like my dreams, I won't let you. In my dreams, I'll dream about all the things I want to do but won't let myself.

I keep staring at you as I doze off to sleep. I whisper that I miss you. I miss what never was and say good-bye. Good-bye. It was nice knowing you.

That way when I wake up, I can tell myself I have it all figured out.