Never is Poison

 

Coarse granules in open wounds.

Pleading for a life that will never resume.

An aching that courses through my veins.

An excruciating pain that waxes and wanes.

 

Trying to pull in air, but the sobbing is heaving.

How do you keep the dead from leaving?

Death makes you doubt what you believe in.

How do the living still keep on breathing?

 

I still feel the pulse of her presence.

My mind is cluttered with all of her remnants.

Everything she was, still is.

All I once held, is all that I miss.

 

The sun still rises and sets.

The moon comes out and the tides still shift.

I am stuck somewhere within her last breath.

I cannot move, nor take a step.

 

I clutch my chest searching for a rhythm.

I reach out my hands, but the wind cannot grip them.

I peer through saline bars, tears blurring my vision.

Never is laced with its own bitter poison.

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