The Letting Go

Trapped in the quiet, stinking places

where loneliness breeds contempt.

Caught in the visceral sounds of aching

where none of this will end.

Words unspoken, barren, stricken,

a deftly well played hand.

Silence whispered, shoulders turned

a castle made of sand.

There is nothing here, to nourish

that starving aching scream.

No echo lingers, no song once sung

no things that I once dreamed.

I hunger, I bleed, I scratch at stones,

at doors, at keys all turned.

I cry, I long, I pace this floor

I pay homage to the pyre, burned.

There are broken remnants laid out in rows

on display like pieces of art.

I pick them up tenderly, touch them again

and dash them upon the rocks.

Their time has come, their time has gone

their lifespan a flicker in time.

The dust not yet settled, the rust not yet stained

these things are no longer mine.

The letting go, the giving in

the surrender of a raging war.

The casting off, the last shred of doubt

this isn’t mine anymore.


*I'm not generally a fan of rhyming
 but this was what wanted to be said...*