Disconsolate

sadwomanThe pitter patter of feet
Tiptoeing up stairs
These ghosts unaware
Conversing in tongues
This constant intrusion
A fragmentary pause
Resting in the shadows
Just like we used to
When we were complete
But all I can do is cry
And sing you this lullaby
Full of shallows and lows
That take a kind of patience
To casually define
To fractionally discern
Without fear of reprisal
And this nostalgia that I crave
Was never quite as bold
Never quite in technicolor
As I imagined it to be
This endless consequence
Of frightening decisions
Made in the black of a night
That swallowed me whole
That catches me in its embrace
And leaves me wanting more
Than the echo that remains.

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