But…

You sit by my bedside like vultures

And you grasp my hands tight, when I

Pretend that I have the strength to

Step out of your house – into life

/

You sing to me songs of oblivion;

When I can no longer fight off sleep,

You fill my dreams to the brim

With what sometimes may seem

Like an escape, a grim kind of freedom

/

You drag my thoughts downwards with you,

Whispering, ‘you are already gone’;

Ghosts and demons of hope,

You’ve bound me with the strongest rope,

Through the pain it’s just you I can hear

/

And I’m barely holding on;

And I’m all but going insane;

I’m forgetting my loved ones’ names

And how good it felt to be loved;

And you say to me: ‘it’s ok’,

And I almost believe you, but…

At the Station

I have to go –

The air outside is getting cold and lonely;

I hear the call

Of somewhere ineffably remote; the doors of glass

Have closed

/

What you may have to say

No longer matters – I’ve unlearned to listen,

To speak, to touch, to love, to hope

To miss this that I never held but an illusion of,

Fragile and fleeting

/

The train

Is quickly gaining speed, like fire

Flying,

Flying,

Flying;

/

Snow flakes –

My tiny frozen dreams – are falling lower

Down,

Down,

Down

/

I will not see them

Settle on the barren winter ground; watch them

For me, while I am gone,

Gone,

Gone