Converge

Sometimes things you write,

hurt terribly.

When the wound is fresh & still spurting blood.

How long did you beat on that wall old friend?

Humor me.

Questions will forever go unanswered now that you've made it round the

bend.

A cold body makes for lonely days.

Just another tremor, I suppose.

I speak to you as though you're still alive

Maybe if someone would have been a little more thorough in the days past,

maybe you would be.

I shall write my notes to your ghost.

It's hard to picture a living breathing laughing thing dead like ice.

But here we are.

I am but a survivor of this victimless world.

All the victims have taken the path of death.

Depression is such a spontaneous killer.

One day your tight

& the next,

the next you are dead.

How long did you beat on that wall old friend?

I believe until it all caved in.

Was there no one there to patch & mend?

How strange it is,

you were just shopping in windows..

& now they mourn & make arrangements.

What a lifeless world it is.

-LaurenAshley

© LTarabori92

4/10/21