I expected this, what you are doing.
This business of moving on and satisfaction.
Nothing is as intense, life nor death, nor the greys that cover,
Everything in layers of light and dark and brighter and darker still.
At night I am a ghost, in a world of real and gone.
Clawing through layers of guilt and longing, past and imagined.
In the day, I am a mouse,
When compared to my old lion self.
I am small, and silent, and out of style.
Cage unlatched, and I, too tame for desire now.
I understand the loss, of a stone, beaten into sand.
Forced obedience and the curse of knowledge manifested in me.
Fate's errand child, unfulfilled, lacking,
Giving, sloughing off my needs,
Becoming bitter, brittle
I?...so you're welcome
Jun 25, 2010
Posted by Lindsay at 6:54 AM