He never threw her a lifeline,
not so much as an immature vine.
He spun trite words of thin silk,
superficial, opaque as milk.
No surprise he was gone
while she tried to hold on,
left her to hang, not to linger,
the fibers struggled in her fingers.
So she finally numbed,
took a breath and succumbed.
The thread snapped - - she heard an echo,
something she couldn’t follow,
a voice full of pathos, words, a promise,
a lifeline perhaps, before the great gulf of silence.
What's Left and What's Breathing by TheLunaLily, literature
Literature
What's Left and What's Breathing
I'm a sacrilegious atheist
who screams at a god that I don't believe in.
I swear that I'll jump,
but I have anchors on my ankles
and I don't have the guts
or the heart
or strength to sink them.
I'm a masochist on a razors edge called,
‘What's left' and 'What's breathing.’
Just getting by on the crumbs of memories
and the skin of my teeth
will not last forever.
This is not living,
and I am painfully aware.
I know your voice, you are the wolf,
howling when I’m bright, close to the gulf.
There are those who say it’s wrong
that you expect to hear my song.
We never had our timing right;
misunderstood, sometimes we’d fight,
and I know it was the tide
that always took you from my side.
You are Neptune
and I am the Moon
pulling you toward friendly shores;
I’m tired of these blues of yours.
You say you feel the wave approach,
a whirling, swirling Charybdis coach.
I’ll dive down and a mermaid be
and strive to bring you home with me.
Elegant gypsies reclining on divans,
artists lying on silk pillows
strewn on the floor
painting poets seeking visions.
Provocateurs and raconteurs,
rogues and blue bloods in disguise,
entertain while the Green Fairy
delights on a dance floor of sugar.
I cannot get out of my head.
Spinning,
spinning,
rotating gears covered with mirrors.
If only my mind could be like wool for a while,
thick and fuzzy,
but soft like cotton,
not itchy;
I don’t need anything to scratch, scratch,
scratch at incessantly.
I wish I could take a cue from McCartney
and just let it be,
let it be,
let it alone,
set it free;
It’s never that easy...
Some things won’t let me go.