On Endings.

What has often bothered me, is not the ending of things, but the ease with which I’ve seen perfectly beautiful journeys destroyed for the littlest of things. It is the loss of what should have been, could have been, and now will never be. And the saddest part of it all, is that you never notice until that time has gone. Perhaps it is why I’ve always done my best to glue things back together again, but release is the sweetest peace, in and of itself.

Sober Shots.

When you confessed of a love for the game,
It all came crashing back to me,
With an unexpected clarity;
Finally letting me see,
Through the sober shots in my glass,
That nothing at all had changed,
Including how well I fooled

And now a few days later,
With my glass all
But empty,
My head full, and clear,
I know that I no longer want
This emptiness that comes
Of chasing ghosts.

This sober shot’s
On me.

Sunday, April 26, 2015. 4.51 a.m.