I hang upon this noose,
But it does not murder me.
All the shots fired,
The hail and embers surrounds me.
With your words;
With your intent;
I succumb into melancholia,
I enter my dementia,
I am lost and wander in memory;
Sickness turned into depravity,
Depravity unto beleaguered mentality.
You are here.
But when I am with you,
I am empty and fulfilled,
Content and yearning at the same time.
I sure do miss you,
But I don’t want you.
Saudade, Nov ’15. Original, June 2017, Edited, repost.