No liberation for this relic

I am in utter devastation from this tearing apart, of the inside out. Was it just a fleeting glimpse into something real? Everything I desired exquisitely placed so lovingly in my hands. I should have known by how easily it came that the cost would be too grave. Was I clinging onto imagined connections, wishing for a reality that may never be? Was it just a mirage in the desert of my thirst? A moment of bliss, vanquished from my grasp.

I still feel the ghosts there, haunting and beautifully nestled in the palms of my hands. The silly red string connecting my heart with a soul aching for me, is now lost in the crevices of my mind, buried and hidden by a dream within a dream.

Trying to savor the taste as it pools on my tongue knowing it was too decadent to swallow. Now it’s just reverie. Am I forever fated to be alone? Am I always to be left wanting for things too far out of reach? Like swinging from moonbeams or catching falling stars? I am a child throwing pennies in wishing wells, desperate for someone to to be afraid to lose me? Who am I to desire such things?

I’m exhausted of this world. I don’t want to stay here, in my mind. It echoes of pain and delusion and I grow tired of dangling from this ledge. Am I meant to stand infinitely on the precipice of knowing there will never be someone that loves and craves only me? Am I too selfish? Will I always be dancing with the devils I don’t know? So much uncertainty, achingly weighted in caustic doubt. I am weary of all this shadow boxing and searching for a soul that will love me so tenderly and hold me in their heart, so I can float like a feather from the heavens and finally breathe.

I am despair and hope wrapped in red silk; a heart that bleeds on no one, eternally hemorrhaging from within. I wont feel pity for this heart, it wont untangle the mess in my bleating consciousness. I will carry on gritting my teeth and baring the pain of all the scars left from biting my tongue through a crooked smile. Feigning an illusion of happiness, while crushed by the gravity of solitude. The truth’s beholden to only me; perhaps there is no design for anyone to ever truly understand and cultivate the depths of my soul and all this love I’ve still yet to give.

I will love me back to life once more, and go on holding all the pieces together. They’re just trinkets now, that I tried to give away, knowing no one would cherish them. I am left wishing into a bucket that becomes leaner with each passing day. I am leary of glaring into it’s tragic emptiness. It is my fault; I keep giving, knowing they only take and take. Am I destined to be painfully visible and completely unseen? Just a forgotten toy, carelessly tossed in a box and lost from this world long ago. There will be no liberation for this relic, so I’ll seek solace in the finality of perpetually trying to learn, how to just let go.