Common

The air is so dull
I cannot feel...
Something is wrong.
Every repetitive word
Contributes towards my tired heart.
I drift, and wander,
Finding but my own questions again.
Circling, for the sole reason of having nothing else...
Not any longer.
My Dear One,
How wrong you are!
How deceived within your intelligence!
For it is not that I could reach higher,
Or could be blinded to your beauty.
But what is happening to me so invisibly deep,
Is far more frightening and dangerous.
It is not unfaithfulness, or fear, or dependency.
It is not hatred, or love, or friendship.
It is not lies, nor truth that has me bound,
But more the feeling of absolute emptiness.
The dark realization of a lack of emotion.
The hope for a vacant dream.
To lay with Hope in intimacy,
And to be carressed by the hands of Destiny,
And to feel but the musky air near your face.
That is.
I dwell in the suffocation of my own breath
Day after day,
Getting no farther than the cheap answers
I have managed to partially rely on.
And as the darkness seeps into my eyes,
And Dusk comes to dance across the horizon,
I finally come to acceptance.
The beautiful laying down of false knowledge.