The one smile.
The one laugh.
The one heartbeat.
The one joy.
The one thing that got you up in the morning,
The one thing that put you to bed at night.
The months would pass, the years would pass.
Still he was the one.
The one to be there.
The one to try.
The one to trust.
The one to love.
He was the one constant in a world of dark waves.
But then the tide wore, and with it did he.
He was the one and now he was nothing.
Oh how did it change, the one I love.
The one to depend.
The one to stress.
The one to manipulate.
The one to hate.
YOU ARE READING
The Sickness
PoetryWe are full of rot. A slow rot that eats away at every single one of us like ants in soft, damp wood. Let the infestation thrive within. We are sick.
