The Abandoned

There is nothing like it
A perception of a void
Pacing the floor
Waiting for only silence
From the door
Feeling the cold sheets
When a leg stretches ‘cross the bed
Anticipating the loss of heat
Seeing only endings
Down every bright hallway
Down every loving isle
As the last sliver of sun fades
On the most magnificent day
An inevitability.
Seeing each milestone
As only a step closer to solitude
Perpetual motion
and perpetual isolation
Every spark a chance to elude
Otherwise risk what, death?
But in that final breath
a life this way is squandered
Abandoned twofold
A story to tell
and a story untold
The initial crime
Unfurls into a lifetime
of hiding, of disconnecting
Of perpetual self defrauding
An idea that control
Will stop that sun from setting
That somehow we can find
a static life
But even in death
Nothing stands still
Not even the chill
of regretful bones
Love will continue to come
and go
That is not a choice
Though in our perception of emptiness
We make it our voice, our spirit
And the heat rushes away
Like an endless low tide
Like an endless low tide.