Consternation In Solitude

Silent Despair

My heart is breaking, my spirit is crushed.

I cannot move on because there is no one that I trust.

I cannot bring myself to trust another; there is no other like him.

A growing lump in my throat serves as a permanent reminder.

The weight is too much.

I need help, but I cannot bring myself to accept it,

nor can I find anyone truly offering it.

Heart pounding, sharp pains ripple through my chest.

I reach out, but it is all too much.

People do not know how to respond, other than touch.

Their touch is jarring, as if I am their captured firefly.

Shrills of desperation escape the bottom of my existence.

It is easier to keep to myself.

I do not need any make-up to paint this face.

It is a mask that I have learned to wear, even in this place.

From my eyes down to my neck a river of tears flow.

I practiced when I was young, wearing the mask just for fun.

Little did I know, I would become the one with nowhere to run.

If only I knew better.

My plummeting oxygen necessitates rapid aspiration.

If only they told me.

Maybe I would not spend my night imagining endless alternatives.

Maybe I would not constantly try to rewrite past narratives.

Heaving a mixture of snot and tears in between cries, my throat grows weary.

I choke on my failure.

I should have seen the signs from your behavior,

But I did not. Now I am here, and you are not.

I lay unable to move, staring into the vast darkness.

You are not here because you are dead.

It is my fault that there is so much left unsaid.

I desperately wish it was me who died instead.

Thus, I live a double life.

A life of hiding.

A life of pretending I am fine.

A life of hiding my desperation from the world.

Everyone acts as if I am fine.

Everyone acts as if I have no reason to be dragging behind.

Everyone assumes that time heals all wounds.

Time does not heal shit.

Death is permanent.

Grief is a never-ending cycle of despair.

Darkness consumes me as I silence my despair.