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One Last

by Mel E. Furnish 11 months ago in sad poetry


One Last
Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

One last breath.

Will it hurt, what will follow this death?

One last blink.

No time to miss a thing, no time to think,

Please, wait, this relation-ship won't sink,

Without a "see ya later" before I reach the brink.

One last heartbeat.

Will I finally feel true peace? Seems bittersweet.

Will I find something more, what can we meet?

On that other side, through the darkness, broken and beat,

Behind the veil of feeling lost and or obsolete,

Will I be remembered, and live on through the ships of the fleet?

I will be leaving behind, dancing to their own beat.

I hope I leave them with that confidence to be elite,

Do what makes them happy, ask questions, and trust their own feet.

Face their battles with an open-mind, a passionate heart, tough and sweet.

One last view.

Will be bright or dark, a red or blue hue?

Angry at fate, or lost in the glue,

Of sadness that traps them, all for you...

I need smiles, I need laughs, at least a few.

Don't want this last sight to brew,

Tears of pain, but rather tears of true,

Emotion, realness, love, and serenity to debut.

One last phrase.

Will it be everything I needed to say, did I give enough praise?

I don't want to just sit in a daze,

I hope to enjoy the craze,

They will like to enrage,

For laughter and joy in the counting days.

A last great memory for our hearts to raise.

One last word.

It's not enough, or will it be, to really feel heard?

One last thought.

Will it be a happy one or a negative one I sought?

Pursing words to whisper, what to say, what I ought,

To share before the last grain of sand passes down, bought,

Back by the circle of life, from top of the hourglass of my life plot.

One last touch.

Who stayed by my side, who will be there to clutch?

Who left, who cried, who screams when its becomes too much?

One last wish.

For comfort, for bliss.

Knowing that I will miss,

Every moment, last time to reminisce.

Before letting go and embracing the abyss.

The next step of existence, when the end or beginning hits.

sad poetry
Mel E. Furnish
Mel E. Furnish
Read next: La Luna
Mel E. Furnish

I am a self-published author, raised in a small town on a family farm in Indiana. I

have published a handful of books so far, and I have plans for many more! Interested in more? Check out my website! * http://mel-e-furnish.com/

See all posts by Mel E. Furnish

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