A grey Sabbath in an ordinary life.
The rain gently hammers the grass.
A police siren fades in the distance.
Open books lie abandoned on the floor.

The young man swallows a couple more pills.
Another ritual performed to no avail.
He attempted to feel jealous, to feel rage.
He no longer trusts. He no longer believes.

Bearing unspilt tears that will never dry,
Hiding idleness behind contemplation,
Wishing never having written love letters,

Remembering their emotional roller-coaster,
Savouring the perfect drunkenness of insomnia,
Bewildered by a proud faith in the future.

A past captured in snapshots of insane encounters,
Elusive moments of bliss for an imprisoned heart.
The loneliness of airports fills his memories.
Each page in his passport holds a poem to her.

A silent and cold personification of Nemesis,
All he ever received from her was sorrow.
The bruises on a raped soul are still fresh.
Still, love is what’s there when she is far away.
 

M.Daedalus