Who this

When loneliness becomes accompaniment,
closing your eyes turns into sight,
and tears transform into grins.
Last night the lights went out and emptiness introduced.
Oh, it was so polite, thought it said it came to fight; to blow up all my thoughts and destroy all sense of loss.
It said in its absence I wouldn’t last, and if so it’d be so fast, without a clue of breath, nor life.
So I allowed myself not being. Only thought on my mind was: “Hey, who this? I often see you, but hide under your thin, soft skin”.
Avoiding questioning, welcoming, and so starting to flood. It’s just a matter of years for thin, soft skin to start to stink like rotten blood..
My lips tremble, I feel so weak.
Perhaps space removes all thoughts, and brings up truth at its foremost.
For so I recon, like it or not, we’re here to follow, same as a dog, our profoundest need.
The one we mostly have no notice of.
Irene
