Foxhole

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Take me back to where we once were.
Existing in a space between loving and dying.
I might get by on the weekends.
But I’ve got myself twisted up bad, been rarely sleeping.
These thoughts of you send me spinning.
Obsession only breeding more doubt.
I keep thinking I’ll continue living life half empty.
With a heavy apology all knotted up in my chest.
One that I’ll whisper out into the air,
Praying it reaches your ears.
Because maybe the sight of me causes you fear.
Maybe the sight of you breaks me just a little more.
And I have no idea what that looks like.
Thought I was already damaged enough.
Been that way since we decided to leave that space.
That place in our lives we cherish but would rather forget.
I’ve been married to this loss, my greatest failing.
Falling short on all these words that can’t find a home.
Painfully spilling my guts line after line.
All these words mean nothing because you’re still gone.
And nothing I say or write will ever bring you back.
No, you’re never coming back.
What’s dead stays dead.
No matter how much life you breathe into it.
No matter how many signal fires you light.
We all eventually burn out and turn to ash.
I know this and maybe that’s why I’m flawed.
I continue going back to the twilight of what kills me.
Still whispering my amends listlessly.
Wishing they were etched into my skin.
The words seem like an act of self harm.
But there must be a purpose if I keep seeking them out.
Maybe it’s your reply back to me.
Maybe you’re whispering too.

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