Monday, October 7, 2013

Not quite dejavu

It had to have been a day just like today
where the warmth of summer
gives into the dull ache of cold bones 
while the air attempts to suffocate
all living things
with it's thick decay. 

It had to have been a day 

exactly the same as today
when my soul ripped itself in two
and bid adieu
to ever seeing anything
just one way again.

It feels almost mournful. 
But beautiful. 
And dreadful. 
And lost.

This day is confused.
It can't decide
whether or not
to allow the sun to shine 
So she hides cowardly
behind those gray puffs
of risen feathered-fog.

This day is longing for the forgotten heat of summer.
This day is too tired to fight against the inevitable.
This day would give itself up for one more pleasant dream.
But this day can not sleep. 
This day assassinates the darkness
like each day before it.

This fucking day,
I can not put my finger on.
But this day,
in my history,
or one just exactly like it
Has been my undoing.
My terminal diagnosis.
My death.
My total destruction.

This day.
This brisk
This breezy
This perfect
autumn day

Left me beyond ruined

And yet
This day
This day, saved my life.

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