Mirages

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This will never be a fairytale. There will be no happy ending, no golden sunset for you to disappear into.

Submitted: December 04, 2011

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Submitted: December 04, 2011

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A A A


 

Don’t you see?

This will never be a fairytale.

There will be no happy ending,

no golden sunset for you to disappear into.

This will destroy you, will end in you

alone at the side of a road,

at the wrong end of a slammed door,

with only a dial tone echoing in your ear as you drown

in whys and maybes and could’ve beens.

 

Surely, traveling the road alone must be better than this grasping at straws, this

wandering alone in the darkness, searching for someone

who will share their flashlight for a while.

 

Say you find someone, for a while.

Say that you meet someone and

you carve out a place in your life for them-

space in your drawers, on the counter in the bathroom,

in your bed under the sheets.

Say you do this, and you are happy. For a moment, you are happy.

 

This will not last. Cannot last. Something will happen, something always happens,

and you will see it coming.

Maybe you try and stop it, or maybe you ignore it, clinging

to the happiness that is slowly fading,

dimming like the batteries in a flashlight.

You will do something, or not do something. It won’t matter.

It all ends the same.

ends with you and your heart ripped from your chest

and thrown onto the ground-

as an offering, as a plea, as an apology- it makes no difference.

 

It’s like a story that has already been written, but you

don’t get to see the ending until it’s too late,

until the shouting is long over, until the bags are packed

and you are left sitting alone in a too-quiet house

walking across cold tile in bare feet

slipping into a bed where

another person’s weight should be beside you.

You will listen for them, search for them

imagine the sound of their footsteps

and look for all their things mixed in with yours.

Everything will seem empty, less, when they are gone. Even you.

Especially you.

 

This will scar deeper than flesh.

This will be carved into your very bones,

into the curve of your ribs

and the knobs of your spine.

It will flow through the blood in your veins and infect you

like a parasite

eating away at you slowly,

painfully,

hollowing out your insides and leaving you

 

empty.


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