Whispering the past

There is a voice
so small

etched
in the dark

engrained

so absent
that
sometimes I wonder
if she exists

existed
at all

but she did

I did

a voice so lost
drowned out by
background

foreground

which ever ground
I tread on now

so faint I thought
I'd fail to hear

But I am still here.
"I am still here"
she seems to say.

Watching not waiting

Wait.

There.

Wait.

Please.

Wait.
Wait.
Wait.

Then it is gone.
Fallen from my lips.

You pause.

And for the smallest moment
I hope.

Back towards me.
You have stopped.

A silent plea,
Turn round.
Turn round.
Turn round.

And I think you might.

But you do not hear.
Never have.
And you start again,
Never looking back.

Wait
I want to cry.

But I don’t.

Scrap yard

No thought left
In my mind
I am alone now

Like they have been pulled
Deliberately
With ease
From their home

Or seeped.

I failed to hold on.
Let you down.

All those things I tried
To fill
Absent.
Until this is how it feels.

And I am devoid.

Defective and unworkable
Like there is nothing left
Apart from
Alone.

Swimming without armbands

Staving off
the pull of your ocean
like I am
eking out time
until
a final decision is made

and I will sink or swim.

Future, present, past

Today
shouldering the blame
of all that cannot be found
as it shelters under warmth
hidden from view

a delicate line between
this world and yours

where the choice
was not so clear cut
when life was lacking

and eternity
not so far from reach.