No One Gets Out Alive

This is a different take of my old poem “Wishing Well”. As with all of my poetry, they will never be complete until I am six feet under.

Nothing’s changed.

I’m still alien to the term “Love”

It travels on another timeline,

parallel to my own.

Never to intersect or intertwine.

Till death, my bitter heart will remain alone.

Eternity awaits this lonely lover.

Filled to the brim with guilt,

void of compassion

The will to love,

is no longer an oft-thought emotion

I’m stumbling through an open door

A mason’s fairy-tale creation

I’m fumbling through an open door;

My past fortune’s glimmer, gracing

eyes with a life, this soul just wasn’t made for

Yeah I’m tumbling through an open door

End over end

She threw my ass out of an open door

Her laugh accompanies splintering floorboards…

Nope, not a damn, thing’s, changed

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