It Has Been 0️⃣ Days Since Our Last Incident

And what then?

When the barbed wire drives away the last of the penitents,

when freedom reveals it was loneliness after all, and it chokes far more than relationship ever did, what then?

What then?

When even the words won’t come anymore,

because I left them out for too long with everything else in the wasteland, what then?

I razed it all to the ground myself then shook my fist at the sky,

drinking wine like it was water to feel something different,

only it’s never different, just heavier.

What then?

When the line between actor and character disappears, when the role becomes reality,

when the ache becomes scar tissue, set in stone, impossible to escape,

when it seems like what is will always be, what then?

What now?