Where did my love go?
My conscience will not falter to watch us die. A feeling that is always fleeting, and if seeing is believing, then I no longer know what to believe in. My focus is changing and rearranging the images I dream of. There are so many moments I falsely correct in my mind to unwind the pain that resides in me. But little do you see me anymore, and all I see is you searching for more, never satisfied with what is before you.
You're looking for a void to fill with a high you will never find again, yet you’ve convinced yourself otherwise. This demise has been the walk towards your dying day, and for you, my love, every night I pray. Though at times I doubt the presence of God, it is all I have left to hope for. I can no longer save you, my love, my sweet immersion, my obsession.
You have shunned me from the depths of you that I once knew. This poison you seek preys on the weak and desperate, and you have solely accepted it. The thoughts and questions that cling to my every move draw me back to you. Even if I try to escape, the chains of needs and desires grip me ever tighter. Every night, I lay my head on my pillow with these five words that bounce around in my head. They have become my counting sheep.
Where did my love go? Where did my love go? Where did my love go?
About the Creator
Rebekah BT
Wanderer of words, striving to embellish my vocabulary.
I find beauty in sadness and convey them into writing.
Bringing awareness to addictions, mental health and the struggles of life.
Author of Book "Behind Skye's Eyes"
www.rebekahbt.com
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Dear Younger Me
Dear younger me, I’ve watched you move through this life with such absorption while I scrutinized every characteristic of your demeanour. The way you quint your nose when you read your books, or how you hum random melodies when you feel uncomfortable. How you always tap your fingers to the drum beat of any song your ears capture, or when you get lost in your thoughts, floating in your senseless daydreams. The way you people watch with such empathy and embrace the little joys they bring to you, creating personas from your observations. I also see the way you fear being vulnerable around the people who wish to see the real you and how you rid yourself of any opportunity to do so, in fear of exposing your scars. The way you refuse the love you deserve and instead run to the type of love that leaves you fragmented once again, left on your own to put yourself back together. And every time I see that your smile fades a little more as your heart grows a little darker, slowly giving up on the belief of your self-worth.
By Rebekah BT7 months ago in Writers
Comments (1)
Well done!