Millions [Poetry]

three hundred tearstained sunsets

three hundred tearstained sunsets

july14twenty18

I think I knew - when the fires burned out.

reminiscing, saw chaos coming from miles away and never hid. embraced the crash. within me and... without me, so it seems.

the embers were still hot for months, as high voltage tends to lead to. after the cooling, though, came nothing. fire is much more secure than ice.

scrolling into another life, hopefully. leading to painstruck nights of tiredness, always running, writing the same sonatas into a heart that no longer beats. those sonatas, albeit beautiful, are deafening, and the key may change but it is still the same unmasterpiece.

for nothing, truly, has changed, save for a chapter here and there chronicling the most recent of the abyss (never much) and lying in wait. tearstained sunsets left alone, and the promises hard to keep broken or on the verge.

lying in wait in the midst of hundreds of tearstained sunsets leaves someone hollow. want to fill it with fake joy that may become real with time, soaking into the corners and mending old wounds.

but parts of me don't want that to happen.

and all of me just wants to lay down in the clouds with the blue, the warmth, the only love I had left, and leave the rest to be.

bring me back to the fire, when I could still hold on.

bring me into the sky, where we truly belong.