Drugstore Perfume [Poetry]

beached roses

beached roses

june28twenty20

life moves on without you, though it is rather empty still. they tell me it will all work out. I scream into the void.

it was never fair. so unjust. found myself making pressings on fiction and now part of us is in there somewhere, reflecting. it will never stop hurting, for if it did, I would have lost humanity itself.

the irony still astounds me. never picture perfect, but always improving and aspiring for health. spent years lost in fantasy and finally found it. then it was gone. it's fitting in a small and hurtful way.

maybe I'll stop thinking about it, and the pain will turn into something constructive. I told my therapist I'd do that this month, but instead I just wandered so far away from the hurt that it had no effect on me.

today, though? they left my heart in droves. that hollow organ in my chest that I've prayed to just dispose. stop saying it will all work out, that's meaningless for now. I'm still here in all my doubt, with no sure clue of how.

it's become a more tired grief because this body cannot take much more. there was a time where one considered leaving because your absence is not the only shipwreck in this sea, but one of many victims of the storm. but that won't happen. yet.

there must be some beauty found in this suffering, beyond the quotes on cards pinned to the wall. projection is a funny thing. they have no idea how dutifully I've quarantined. how I've been blocked up inside for almost a thousand days.

I guess I don't want to heal; I do still love you, now and always. it is painful, though.

I hope these days treat you well, sunshine.