Monday, November 9, 2015


Dust. My hands are fear.
With light in my grasp, I turn it to dust.

A smile wide, and wider yet.
A mask, made frail and worn by time - excruciatingly framing every mistake.
Mistakes? Decisions.
And those decisions are a lifetime.
A lifetime of revisiting and reliving your shortcomings.

"You'll never learn", the excuse you use to avoid answering to your mistakes,
as that lifetime turns to dust.

The panic begins at the heart.
As the smiles disappear, the warmth of that smile begins to fade and the heart sinks.

Footsteps. Faint footsteps. Becoming louder. Faster.
The eyes seek what the ears perceive.
Until the realization that those footsteps are internal.
The heart and head run from one another - neither willing to admit wrongdoing. Failure.
You want to run.

"Grow up. You're pathetic. Get a hold of yourself."
Blood begins to freeze. Bones begin to chill.
The eyes sink inward, glaze over, and focus disappears.
The heart submits defeat and the pain tears through the ribcage like a bullet.
I am acceptance.
I am numb. Save for the dust in my hands.

It begins to burn like hot ash and coal.
I stare at those hands in disbelief.

"You could have had everything."
But to you, everything is the smallest fraction.
You're happy with nothing and disappointed when you get something.

I can still run.
But it's so romantic to be sad. Lost. Lonely.
Embrace this pain.
"I will learn this time."

The grip tightens on the burning dust.
"This is my penance."

I'm crying. I'm screaming, I'm laughing;
I'm crying for the first time in years and it's everything I could have hoped it would be.

A smile paints itself on my face as I am awash with calm.

I let go of letting go.
"No! This is mine."
This is all I have left.
This dust.

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