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To live in ruins until I am
To W.B. Yeats
There is something to my life that cannot be described as "lonely".
But a forgotten detail in a missing puzzle piece.
The secondary woman in the background
For she lets the foreground desire shine.
The construction of an unfinished building
For even the demolished one has an audience.
Like an untouched notebook
For even the blank page full of ideas has some company.
Like a shape with no lines
For even a circle is surrounded.
I drew hearts on the page this was written in
For all the loves I let get away
And the friendships I ruined
For some quick shot of fun.
I am to live in ruins until I am,
My own apocalyptic Bethlehem
Staring down on me.
Only, do I feel its impending doom
Only, do I see it deteriorating right in front of me.
I am reassured about what youth I have left
But at any present time do I not seem to live.
Somewhat disconnected in a connected world
Encompassed by distraction
Succumbing to a fog of smoke in my head.
Sleeping in my bed of dreams that’ll never come true.
I am unsure
But I am reassured of the time I have left.
Time is bestowed to me as an acquaintance, begging me to be friends.
But as I reach for its hand, it slips away
Like the life I had
Like the loves I hadn’t cherished.
Even with time’s immortal existence
Surrounding our souls
Do I let time slip right past me
Like a friend I once had.
Copyright ©
Nicole Seefeld
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