Last Living Lost

Last Living Lost

A Poem by [deleted]

Some days it catches up to me

-          That which I don’t think about

And tears at my soul with the thickest fangs

So that all my emotions bleed out

Completely can’t function & must flee away

To sob, sob, sob, and then wail for a day, days

For that which is lost and that causes this pain

Loss of love, loss of lives, loss that time will obey

All loves are lost – or they will be someday

Perpetual piercing of sorrow remains

In moments true cherished, and more cherished so

Will someday more pain bring when loss grabs ahold

Of more friends and more family, pets, homes leveled flat

Feelings only in memory I’ll ever have back

And what of my soulmate I saw turn away?

Not knowing if he’ll… return impassioned someday

Or if his chest aches as mine

Through each lovesick long day

Forcing it - out of my mind for existence

Trying to love the small pleasures

As I best can fake it

For my favorite most spicy foods haven’t a taste

Haven’t for weeks and it’s all I can take

To forced down the morsels of delight on my plate

In the soulsickness nausea without vomitous stink

But the vom never comes for the soul never eats

In fear of the loss that the vomit will bring

Sometimes a substance to take off the cling

In general knowing, it’s not the best thing

Improving myself - not for him but for me

Ok, It’s for him, but a little for me

Though he is a subject on which I do not think

The story, I suppose, you do want me to fink

He’s my ex-boyfriend’s best friend,

And an honorable man

Who loves me for me and for all that I am

And knows that what’s meant to, will be in the end

While I sit and cry for the time lost from him

Yet between two, one most always will win

And I hope I’m the one, the sad last one, the loser

Rather than wish that pain, solo absolute terror

On someone I love or a moment I cherish

I’d take all the torture until I too do perish

Of loss and of hope, draining hope, for the future

Faking it more until Fate takes her suture

And mends up the tatters of my sad half soul blanket

Missing my passion and feeling safely at homestead

Clinging to rags while I wait for my The End

© 2008 [deleted]

Author's Note

Too much? Too choppy? What was the worst? Should I say specifically who he is or does that make it less persoble to others? Should I chop it early and make it two different poems? I thought about adding the line "watching my mother start rotting with age" somewhere but... i didn't. Thoughts? Thanks!

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Added on March 8, 2008
Last Updated on March 9, 2008