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Empty Intentions

A not so happy poem...

By Mr EvranPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
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The light above illuminated the otherwise transparent drops as they fell in a chaotic symphony to the shadow strewn ground bellow.

It was raining.

She breathed deeply, then exhaled an angry ocean of smoke. Clouding the early morning urban disaster that lay before her. The sharp air was thrown into dismay as the low shrill of an oncoming vehicle came to a screeching halt.

That was her bus.

Realizing her absence from reality due to her uffish thought. She promptly suffocated the life from her cigarette and threw her pocket change into the slot.

Life in motion.

The slightly disgruntled midlife crisis of a tour guide grumbled a barely audible acknowledgement to her existence as she spied an empty seat at the farthest end of the bus.

Time to go home.

The barely lit foyer had the feeling as though your posh and morbidly obese dear aunt might visit at any moment. But she knew Vanessa hadn't called in years let alone wrote a birthday card, considering she had passed when she was a child, this seemed rather appropriate.

Everything expires.

She mounted the worn wooden stair case and proceeded to climb for what had seemed to be an eternity yet it only consisted of four flights of stairs and her destination was a mere three flights above ground level.

She arrived.

She walked to the end of the corridor and found her apartment. The faded numerals fastened to her door seemed to dissipate into the scenery even though they were three weeks old and painted a horrible yellow that should be in the "obnoxious migraine inducing" section at Home Hardware.

This was her hell.

She strategically placed her keys into the sticky tumbler and slowly pushed the door ajar only to expose a sliver of the dreadful monster that may be lurking inches away from where she stood.

This was her demise.

The only thing that stood before her was that same thing that she had been feeling for years, nothing.

This isn't home.

She cautiously stepped foot onto the patio, welcoming the sharp air to tear at her porcelain white skin once again. Lighting a new silent companion she took stalk of her surroundings.

Never alone.

Her world pale in colour was dimly lit by the only light resonating from the occupied bed's side table.

He was sleeping.

She took note of the chair she would never again sit in. The recently dampened railing upon which the tray for her companions ashes sat.

He won't be missed.

She sighed as she looked out at the jagged peaks of light produced by lonely street lights in the lingering fog. The sky beckoned with the threat of more rain, but ultimately failed to deliver.

No one delivers at this hour.

She gazed momentarily at the stars as they dropped in and out of view due to the rapid movement of clouds above.

Yet her world stood still.

The only concrete thing in her life was the fact that no matter what three stars she picked in the sky she could always produce a triangle of some megalithic proportion.

She drifted into space.

She wanted to be alone, but her spousal unit's presence made that unattainable. She lingered on the patio, willing the sky to rain once again and disguise the fact that her eyes were beginning to well.

Her secret love affair.

She thought of the object of devotion in the sock drawer that belonged to her other half. She could taste weakness slithering along her lips then cascading down the side of her neck.

The depression knew her better.

Why couldn't she find happiness?

He'd found it in a bottle.

Had it been drained from her body as a child? Or slowly weathered away by the piercing winds of her poor decisions and shallow encounters?

They had loved her too.

Her companion laying to rest in his tray, she entered her apartment. The poisonous thoughts at her heels. She made her way to the bedroom.

Now to deal with this.

She thought about crawling into bed, falling asleep to the beat of his heart. Washing the taste of his love away with coffee and a new companion. She couldn't bare the idea of facing tomorrow. She hadn't even faced today.

Everyday is a struggle.

The poison began to creep into her mind. Her skin crawled with the hands that no longer lingered. The cold air wrapped around her feet, the metal railing tethering her to reality.

It doesn't have to be.

The depression teased her with a kiss that was just out of reach. The stars sat on edge as she made her decision. The depression knew her better.

Reality lost its grip on her.

sad poetry
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