when pleasure becomes pain,
a smile as he turns away.
i wish he would stop coming back,
but i always hope he stays.
there is only emptiness,
and i with my hope,
alone in that space,
posed with a turbid stillness.
stoic, with cracks showing.
the moments before
the tower begins to crumble,
when the lighting strikes.
gnosis is the difference.
not giving up
because someone walks;
not if i remain in place;
not forgetting;
knowing.
it was too late
for anyone to be saved.
like a spring morning.
a bright warmth,
still chilled
by the heavy frost
of winter
About the Creator
⸘jason alan‽
:::WARNING:::
i am only responsible for what i say,
not for what you understand.
you may learn to be charmed by my [secret‽] discontent,
or you may not.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.