Purpose
I want to be in love with you again.
He searches for purpose, he begs for reason. He does so in a hectic manner, with no ease to the tension in his search. The answer sits clearly above. While he furiously pokes and prods amongst grains and chunks of rock and dirt. Allowing the weight of himself to dig his knees in deeper, creating impressions of each distinctive pebble.
I want to see you smile again.
He has become intolerant at this point in time. With lungs fully depressed, he pushes deeper down into the soot. The hysteria and claustrophobia sends the man into a panic. He no longer recognizes himself, or those who define him.
I want you to feel beautiful again.
Exasperated, the man finds the tips of each finger to be numb. The blood is slow to reach the surface; much like his level of comprehension. The man can no longer acclimate; the inability to adapt to the rush around him spirals his good intentions into a void. Ignorance has exhumed the entirety of his perception.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
An absence of light; his consciousness is bleak, a figment of a once good man. The hand-dug hole set upon the cadaver of the man; whom tirelessly trenched until fingers split, served as a bed to the broken figure. With what dirt lay around, had been pushed in by whom had stood over the man in his final failure.
I don't ever want to see you cry for me.
A mound is all that's left. A woman dressed in tears; stood by, long before the man had died. Suffice to say, gave reason for him to dig. If ever she had stopped him, would only incite the man to dig deeper. Harrowing, his tale of being unable to love in return.
I don't want you to be alone.
The man's existence seemed futile. Nevertheless, he carries on a legacy unknown to himself. Much more to her than a child. Through his incessant pain, she realizes her own strength. And from the death of such colossal pain, grows life. A flower perched upon the mound. A metamorphosis from an inkling of negative, to a plethora of beauty.
I want you to be happy for yourself.
Like the child never to be had, she is unable to conceive the remnants of his past. The overwhelming nature of freedom is personified through his death.
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2016
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