After riding out the storm
The falling tides
Washed my hope ashore
Drawing lines in the sand
Waiting for the sun to set,
The waves to rise
And this smile
To be tested
By the stormy waters
Of a lifetime of past mistakes
The storm of lies --
Bleeding.
Torrent falls, the sirens ablaze
Standing silent amidst the embers.
Your hand,
Lone defender and sign
This war is over
Control.
Like a subtle, lone whisper, this detail confines me,
Defining what I wish I could contain.
Contain; restrain; try to separate from.
Loss is an opiate, it numbs and it stings,
Luminous and dulling all the same.
These walls move closer, get slicker,
I can't say I have much to hold on to –
No matter how hard I wish, how hard
I cry, tape peels, posters crash.
These walls remain resistant to change,
Any change imposed is change denied.
Reality dictates gravity defies your logic,
Your hopes and your dreams.
Hope a neurotoxin, fueled by love – hate –
Everything in between, but always a posion.
Always just enough to send everything you know,
Everything you've built – crashing down.
Lines in the sand are lines in the sand –
You a fool, always a fool for hoping they'd last,
Standing defiant to the crashing waves.
Reality dictates they wouldn't stay obedient,
But your reality always felt so far away,
A past tale to spill over coffee and a few laughs.
The war was never over –
This was just a temporary distraction;
Reality dictates that you ran away,
Chasing a trail of smoke and passion.
You ran away and left it all behind,
The war will always be here for you,
Just in time for your return,
Ready to pick up right where you left off—
Cold. Lonley. Far too aware.
