palmful
the ire i keep
stored in my heart
locked like a furnace
for you
is only a palmful
of what could be expressed
in ugly
human terms
walking abandoned corridors
late at night
stealing chicken eggs, in broad afternoon
there is no way to catch up to the rest of the world
when you are doomed to be apart
too different
too soon
perhaps i was wrong
in thinking
that we are not alone
we are surrounded
but
what does that even mean?
as i fall asleep
curled into my limbs
i wish
to be far from this place
from this curse
this poison
that i willingly swallowed myself
what a fool
what a fool i am
/
as midnight strikes
the future arrives
there is no other choice
but to go on
there is no other choice but
to be born
again
Author’s note: This standalone poem is also part of a poetry collection that forms a short story, named ‘Love, Death’ — you can read the collection in ascending order on Medium.
About The Author: Author of over 20+ web-serials & novels, published by Tapas.io, recent addition to the Wattpad Stars program, and Winner of Tapas’s 2018 Summer Writing Competition, Beau Van Dalen’s stories have amassed a total of over one million reads online — between short stories, poems, novels and scripts, he can always be found with a pen in hand.
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