Dealing with the aftermath and still remembering the wound. Here I am left to fathom of the possibilities. Fresh blood still dripping and I am grasping, or trying to... hanging on to every light of 'hope' in a broken world. The Pinnacle of what used to be is now just that...
I'm left to wonder again about perishable skill, my worthiness, how much weight of truth is in each words... encumbered by the feeling that being left behind like before... spat on and given aspersions... two in one. The lingering fabrication would've went on if I wasn't ... scrutinizing....
So there is time to deal with and there are redemptions to be made. I know of that. But silence ...
Who is in hiding now when I should've been the one? Instead here I am bridging the gap, aching for the sentiments and wondering if it is "ME" to be the one that mends it all together again....
I am depleted and out of sentiments. Or perhaps I am filled with a thought process that is still wincing at the pain of... But for now...
In some ways you were always right, old friend. Leaving it all behind to save yourself. Looking at the eyes that sees you as a goddess. They are comfort while the fictions I live are scornful; relentless in the application of pain when one gives it their all...
I miss you. I wish you were here to tell me that you are right and I am wrong.
System shut down. We are compromised and a catharsis is much needed.
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