Poem: Crossed Lines – 21/01/20

Depression hits my aura like a stoning
I crumble beneath the view
fetal-like
shell-shocked
I’m trying but my best is never good enough
seemingly humoured toward the end.
 
Your life is different to mine,
and while I am thankful for some memories
I want to curl tighter and tighter,
keep you away
I’d be lying if I said you entirely caused the hurting.
 
When it came time, I felt no cord being severed
it had already vanished from existence,
entangled lines once wound like vintage telephone cords
neatly arranged in little camps of yours and mine.
 
And while I can comfort myself with bitter feelings
of how I was so hard done by and mistreated
for the most part it’s tiresome mind-trickery nonsense
only truly applicable to when the gradual silence 
decided to speak.
 
And it haunts, it haunted,
billowing in the chambers of my mind,
when I recall times when our hearts were perfectly entwined,
but letting go of each other,
we both really didn’t seem to mind.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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