Friday, the second of July, the two-thousand-and-twenty-first year of our Lord
Tonight, I am floored
By the unconditional love I receive, & the patience you have whilst I grieve
I want to forget every dream that does not include you
To surrender, to salute you
You, who perseveres to pull me out of the hole, where I'd buried myself alive
To resurrect my soul, make it whole, make it thrive
I curse myself for dragging you down with me into this godforsaken abyss
Where I'm forever awaiting a kiss, which won't arrive
But you remind me I'm still alive
That somehow, I'm still here
Whispering into my ear, the sweetest things that I thought only poets like myself were inclined to say, willing to say, wanting to say
I keep relapsing, collapsing, at the end of each day
Still you stay here at my side, no matter how rough
I can't thank you enough
YOU ARE READING
Necropolis
PoetryAn anthology written throughout 2021, a year of great losses & new beginnings in my life
