The Metronome Mind
An unsteady attachment through life felt in extremes
By ParadoxFoxPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read
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Photo by Sean Benesh on Unsplash
My bed is cold, your scent is gone
I grasp for what was--even a shred
so I'm left with melancholy and memories,
but never regret
Because the moments with you
define those without
Thus I must concede;
loneliness is a lust for the past
for even mere days separate
suspend me for eras
And those spent in your company
escape instantly as fractals;
the ego's crystallization
of all things pure, a storage that corrodes
and sets misery in stone
as a souring meal for later
Every second I feel joy
creates another where I suffer;
a steady metronome,
oscillating in perfect, even measures
And how does it stop?
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About the Creator
ParadoxFox
I value feedback and thoughtful conversation. Talk to me on discord: ParadoxFox#7986
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