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Just a short poem written last fallish. Plagiarized from the person under my skin.

An Accord

Some accordance of isolation is keeping me away
This lonely sigh is but my destiny
I haven't understood all these passes
Until they have already passed
Looking at her I only see me
Alone and mistreated by all except all
So I huddle within and hide from myself
In the hopes that if I can't find me then nobody can
I want it so much that I deny it from me
So quiet I still breathless and free
That the darkness I see engulfs not just me
But any image of her, you and he.

Last Breath

A little fiction for you all, plagiarized from the person living under my skin.

Breathing deeply is the only way. All the pain, the nausea, to heartache, it can go away if I breath deeply. I don’t want to suffer anymore, but the very remembrance is enough to bring back everything. Deeper, breath deeper. I look forward to a day when I won’t suffer for this anymore. Even if by my own hand that I suffer, I try to shrug this, but it seems that I’ve developed a habit of it. Suffering for you.

Walking down the street, I catch your fragrance, the smallest scent of you, and the nausea returns. The physical illness brought upon by your memory. I will it to end, but want it forever, all my love for you lets me feel. The love is deep, pulsing, all encompassing. The loss somehow goes deeper, tapping into the darkest reaches of my soul. With icy clutches of bony fingers it slowly steels me, to be tempered by ice and frost. Only the effervescent memory of you keeps the fingers from taking me completely.

But it was you that let those fingers find me. The icy hands are the result of your decision. The choices you made, my failings toward you, the choices I couldn’t make. I thought I saw you yesterday. I couldn’t breath. My vision went black, and you had gone. I know now that I love you still, but that I wasn’t strong enough to admit that, even to myself, until you had gone. This pain in my chest is but the legacy of a fool, gone now are the proud thumpings upon my chest in the presence of men, and arrived is the desperate clutching of an impoverished creature.

My misunderstandings and blind pride hid from me what I knew to be too precious to loose. I claimed happiness, but denied it out of sheer fright. You were the one, the all, and now you have moved on and found happiness anew. But I, I failed, and am now faltering. I had, and now I don’t. I don’t blame you, how can I? I still love you, but these icy fingers claw at me once more. Breath deep. Close your eyes don’t let them know they have you.

My breath is failing now. I can’t seem to get air in. Gone are the deep breaths, and in there place, short gasps. Everything is too bright. The hands have me now, the cold isn’t so bad once you get used to it. The claws don’t dig in anymore. A tear? I can smell the warm saltiness of this last drop. The tang of the salt is overwhelming. Is that you? I can smell you now. And in all the light I swear that you are leaning over me. The cold is gone, replaced by warmth. A smile is trying to steal its way across my face, but the effort is too much. I want only to sleep now. The pain isn’t gone, only distant.

My breath stops. The cold steel of the gun in my hand is the last thing I feel. Your face the last thing I see. Your fragrance the last thing I smell. But the lingering doubt…