It just comes out all wrong. My love and fear in a raging maelstrom with no answers on either side of the thin line we call life. He knows that this could be it, yet neither of us have the words to express what it all means. Caged by death, we try so hard to break free, but the chains can’t be destroyed. Each and every one of us, doomed to a fate that was written in our hearts before we even drew our first breath. There’s nothing more than this. We create. We cling to those that give us meaning. We discover. We live and we learn, yet around every corner are the nails they’ll use to send us on our way. All those memories, those moments of intimacy that will disappear as if they never even happened. The smiles and warm embraces that drift into the stratosphere without so much as a whimper. Too selfish. Too wrapped up in stories that no one could possibly believe in. This cold heart of mine that seems to exist neither here nor there. Loss haunts my every movement. From babies to lovers to grandparents, everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. And they’ll keep on going, there’s just no stopping it. Immoveable like mountains, the air we breathe is laced with defeat. The trees know it, and so do the bees. They’re as speechless as me, and just as damned.
If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be what I want to be. I’ll do what it takes to fulfil my dreams no matter what. These images are sacred. This wild heart never to be tamed. Others come and go, yet my intent outlasts them all. It could take years, yet my path has already been chosen for me. Destiny. Fatalism. Call it what you will, I am what I am and nothing can stop me. It’s so absurd, yet that’s just how it is. Put me down. Let me go. Leave and never look back. So much suffering on such a pale blue dot, and yet the stench can sometimes be so, so beautiful. Sometimes, I look at my life and it seems as though my heart will explode with how much passion I’ve encountered. All those gazing eyes, those smiles in the midnight hours beneath blankets so warm. Tenderness against apathy. Love to cure the obsolete machines intent on dragging us down to the pits of our innermost fears. My silence doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I still don’t love you, it’s just like the passing of the seasons. It’s a phase that needs to pass in its own way. There’s only been you. Despite everything, there’s only been you. From delight to despair, the chaos only brings calm. I’m not dead, and I never will be. Not I. I’ll be hanging around long after this old town comes crumbling down on their unworthy heads.