"Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me"

15 October 2020

by Riles

Blessed are the eyes bestowed to her,

Thus blessed are the eyes of their beholder.

Deep they look— as deeply as can see.

The fiercest, yet gentlest, of color—

Piercing the heart's eye, as well as mine.

A loveliness embodied— in body and in mind.

Ceaseless a thought— two hands intertwined.

Why lay awake at night thinking of such a loss?

Of something never once had?

Complicated by words never once said?

Perhaps the pain caused is beyond what can be mended?

The trust lost beyond what can be lended?

I believe, as you do, that water runs beneath bridges;

Though somehow I feel so much has been done by my hand,

That oceans have all but replaced land.

Incapacitating is the guilt I feel over it.

Deafening is the laugh never had.

Nothing makes more sense in the worst way imaginable—

When worst case scenario becomes reality.

When there is no comfort there to gather around me.

Could one ever truly understand the state of Sisyphus?

Pushing burden uphill, misconceiving progress,

Haunted by reality when fault admits itself again.

Perhaps denial was a burden. The time since, a hill.

Making this very form a kind of reality. The fault, ruthless forsaking.

I have pictured an affection such as this quite like the sun and its light.

As I can't tell if I glance at the set or the rise.

Or rather a still life image of a figure in the distance.

Faint— unable to say if it walks this way,

Or if it is walking away— from me, from forever.