Yearning

It is,

your last thought before falling

into the night’s embrace,

the hands around your throat,

when you choke out confessions.

 

It is,

the blood that you spill,

the wounds that you bear

proudly.

 

It was what you don’t have,

what you want to be,

what your mind wishes reality

to be.

 

It is longing,

it is hope,

it is laughter,

it is agony.

 

Ephemeral words would not

bring back,

the unceasing glances.

 

A simple touch,

would not bring back,

the supple hands around

your beating, battered heart.

 

Irrevocable tears,

when your heart tears,

just won’t bring back,

what’s already fallen between

the cracks.

 

All you are left with,

at the end of the day,

are memories tainted with

loving lies.

 

All you have left,

is their shadow,

their silhouette,

and,

their ghost.