Monday, December 3, 2012

Losing

The kind of sadness that is the closest to the sadness that comes with death is, the sadness of losing.

It's neither bearable nor containable. But it does happen.

Losing when I am not ready to let go is feels just like a deep stab straight into my heart.

Where did all the memories go?

Where did all that love go?

What happened to our hopes and dreams and prayers?

Do not you still hear our laughter from yesterday?

Have you forgotten my eyes?

Have you forgotten my soul?

Do you not care to take one tiny look at it before I was let go of?

The pain resonates with the very piece of the flesh, sometimes I wonder if it can flow out if I let my blood flow away.

There goes all of my pride, dignity, and ego. I'd save not any of it, if it means to not lose.

I'd rather throw my pride, and plead, then to lose.

I'd rather throw my ego, and beg, than to lose.

No amount of either pride or ego is worth the pain of losing; worth the loss.

The pain washes away with tears and time, but the wound leaves a deep, deep scar that hurts me when I touch it; hurts me when I revisit it.

If all tears has been cried and the the lost remains lost; the pain remains painful, I wonder if I can pull it out of me.

I wonder if I cut myself open, will it come out?

Will I not feel the pain again?

I just wonder...