Fog

I can feel the fog rolling in. 

No amount of petty distractions, thoughts of frustrated sex, or legions of admirers can hold it at bay now.

I’m falling, I can feel it. 

Grief, 

a deep seeded wound that periodically reopens.

The phantom gash is so painful, 

it crumples me to the floor.

The Phoenix is reduced to slow burning ash.

The tower that I’ve become has structural fractures

A building built on unsteady ground

I am swaying in the harsh winds of mourning. 

Memories overwhelm my consciousness 

Things I can never unsee

Things that cannot be undone

Sadness, why do you come so swiftly?

You are an unwelcomed part of my psyche

But you have attached to me like a parasite

And we must learn to co-exist

I cannot purge you from my body

But I will not let you consume me

So I must weather this darkness,

This time of grief

Until the fog rolls out and I see the sun again.


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About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

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