Mourning Alive

 

I’m mourning you but your alive. 

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Alive, living and breathing but you haunt me like a dark shadow. No condolences have come my way so why does it feel like your dead? I have some highly anticipated questions I would you to answer:

Why did you leave?
Were you hurting?

Do you have regrets?
Was it that really bad?
Are you feeling empty?

How are you feeling now?
What was your state of mind?
Did you feel isolated and misunderstood?

Do you feel like it’s never going to end; the pain?
How do I know the rest of them won’t leave me like you have?

I know these are the right questions to ask you because I carry your endless burden. 

I am living your reality and I feel exactly what you feel.
You stole something from me that day we met; when do you intend on returning it?

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I would like to get to know you more, can you tell me some things:

Your morals?
Your shoe size?
Do you like buses?

Your favourite song?
Your favourite quote?
Your favourite colour?

Are your teeth crooked?
Do you like being alone?
Are you a morning person?

Do you like people but hate crowds?
How many heartbreaks you’ve had?
Your favourite holiday destination?

Your version of the truth!

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You have created a lost soul who lives an illusion of someone so found.
You know though, that the thought of loosing weighs heavy on my mind.

Do you feel like that?. Did you know you will loose in the form of loosing me in the way that you did?.

How can I think I’m good enough for anything when you have shown me I was not good enough to keep and nurture.

I think your are catching up on me and wearing me out; because I no longer recognise myself no matter how many mirrors there are statring back at me.

Like a plague I run away from the thought of you and try to forget you exist, but still I continue to mourn. It is a cycle. Like a grenade my thoughts of you exceed their lifeline and  explode. Then I am left to with the trauma of the aftermath.

Just when I think it’s all is over and I’m free, the grenade explodes again and the event relays itself; as the grenades keep coming.

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I’ve tried to bring the rest of your broken masterpiece together to help me feel closer to you. What a failure that was, because those rebels did not cooperate.

Sound familiar?

Looks like you’ve made us all like you; desensitised with no crave for a union.
The idea of of a union seems scary, overbearing and daunting to us. So we just run away instead; just like you. Running away hoping the problem will never find us.

No matter how many padlocks we bolt the doors with; the problem just seems to glide right back through before our eyes.

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I lay wide awake at times feeling sorry for myself. Like a big baby who wants to be carried after a tantrum. I make myself cry when I deeply think of you. It’s sad because theres plenty more of where those tears came from; those tears I cry only for you.

My tears think you are special because they are mourning tears that come down; for a loss for a lost cause. I create scenarios in my mind (all happy scenarios with you) to pretend my life is not really my reality; until my daydream snaps me out of it.

I have some words for me, that can only come from me because I know me.

Dear me, I’m sorry you have to bare this pain,
but you may have to mourn this circumstance forever.
No matter how many people you try to heal yourself through,
this may never be enough and you may never get your answers.
If you continue to seek these answers through people, they will most
likely disregard your feelings and try to make false pretence of your reality.

They will have no idea that the result of the crime you live was Theft At Birth.

 

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