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.

In the cold light of day

This ghost girl
weighted down in the mud

caked

struggling to place one foot
in front of the other
to move forward

burdened with familiarity
and substance
and theory

and all of those things
she held in her grasp
when they looked to her
for command

pinned

hemmed in on every side
as her army flail

crushed into
the sodden earth
like it knows each by name
and calls in such
reverence
that they cannot fail
to hear

whilst she is left
to stitch up the wounded

sew together
what little remains

pulling

at threads till they are taut
and grief will be her burden
alone

there amid carnage
a ghost girl
encased by those lost in the
onslaught

laden with defeat

striving to find breath and breathe

sinking
crumbling

calling out to a god
she no longer believes
exists

and all the whilst this fragile frame
precariously balancing
expectation
which sits heavy on her heart.

A new way of living

The world seems that bit smaller,
A missing piece
That can not be replaced
And every room
Some how more empty than before.

But this is how it is.
How it will be
From now on until forever more.

And I will have to get use to it
Accept this new way of living.

Even if I don’t want to.