Tonight, I scribble my final letter.
I’ve waited ’til now to say goodbye.
I guess I was always avoiding this.
But no, I couldn’t give a reason why.
Crushing thoughts cause my body to shiver.
Oh, how forever-expectations die.
Acquainted with the taste of sharp distraught.
Lifetimes pass in the gentle tears I cry.
Trinkets echo thoughts of you in my mind,
Thoughts that pierce me at a moment’s beckon.
But memories are all I have to choose
to hold onto when I cannot reckon.
But still, my heart cannot accept the truth
that what it has, it had, and had to lose.
Chapter 2020. Honestly Self-Aware.
© Jonathan Swift and WritingWithStrangers, 2020, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.