A Feeling Of End; Love Unbound
Flow Of Consciousness; A Life Half-Lived
I suppose this is how death feels.
This, world-shattering realization,
the sheer powerlessness, of the inevitable
END, time's up-
*
How familiar the hue of potential,
kept in the back of my mind, for later,
until the hours the years flows by, as slow
as can be, yet in a flash
Until the opportunity fades, dies and vanishes
in the maelstrom of the ''what could've been''
*
Sitting here in this now empty house,
overwhelmed by a bitter and sour aftertaste
of regret and worthlessness
Any sound or sigh, echoeing on the barren
white walls, stained by fleeting days of idleness-
My thoughts spiralling away, hoping to unearth logic,
reason, meaning behind all this wasted time,
these choices I made,
how hilarious it all is..
And how silly I am indeed.
I fear I always will be this failure of a man,
this frightened, paralysed idiot
hiding away in his tiny, limited world,
keeping all that is too real at bay,
all that is uncertain, away from sight.
*
After all, I can never be rejected if I never
tell her how I truly feel.
After all, I can never be heartbroken, once we
inevitably go our separate ways.
After all, if I waste my whole life away,
surely no harm will come my way.
Except-
the melancholy of simpler times
the regrets of inaction
the sorrows of not only never reaching my full potential,
but also of never trying!
*
At times, I wonder, why don't I leap in the troubled waters of life,
like everyone else? Eyes closed, smiles abound?
Why don't I simply eat the apple, despite its rotten core?
Why can't I make a fool of myself,
why can't I accept that yes life is about love,
life is about connection, life happiness meaning
lays in the bonds between people, the distant looks
we give each others some times, the awkward silences
and the shared laughters as well.
*
Yet I can't bring myself to embrace it all-
Perhaps I am convinced that I don't deserve any of it.
Or that I am above such petty, sentimental weaknesses.
Yes, weaknesses! To love is to be at the mercy of the other,
to be oh so vulnerable, to be true, real, raw,
to need each others, and all that
*
Perhaps the end justify the means.
Perhaps I'll never be able to love truly, since I seem convinced
I am unworthy of love.
What sort of life is that, then?
Seemingly unending days and years of simple pleasures, of idleness,
of daydreaming, in place of truly living...
All I can do is hope that one day, I'll change for the better,
that one day, I'll be able to embrace her,
love unbound.
About the Creator
YonathanJ
I've been an avid reader for as long as I remember, and a writer since childhood. Crafting stories fascinate me. I write to share my outlook on life, that is often taken too seriously. Hope you enjoy my writings
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Comments (1)
Nice reading. Liked it.