Unfinished.
The end came quietly,
like a cobra slithering, stealthy
among the grass- soft, satin, green,
striking me full of poisoned longing.
The end came like torn pages,
missing from a favorite book-
robbing the resolution of the plot-
stirred and thickened with conflict.
The end came like a thought abandoned in mid-sentence-
senseless, abrupt...
The end came like coming awake
before the dream is complete,
and I awaken with an overwhelming sense of sadness,
of feeling loss,
lost,
knowing that I will never have the same dream again,
and that end is lost forever.
The end came like a mother leaving
without saying goodbye,
just disappearing forever,
swallowed whole by that gluttonous vacuum that takes and takes...
Let the story remain unfinished.
I'll not call you back.
I'll not follow you.
I'll not reach out ever again.
I'll not crawl closer...
Let the story remain unfinished.
Soon,
the heart will unclench its stubborn fists and the illusions will fall like rotten apples to the ground.
Soon,
the heart will give up-
completely,
utterly...
And our story?
An abandoned thought mid-sentence,
a book with its end torn out...
Unfinished....
