Burn

It burns. It hurts. And it won’t stop.
like dynamite tip lit on unceasing spark
silently it continues its way down the spine

long submerged questions surface:
‘why did you leave’ – I wonder.
‘you don’t have it’ – I admit.
‘you don’t deserve’ -yes, yes. I know.

I thought I had spent enough tears
to mourn for youthful soul

perhaps I outlived my deadline.
perhaps this is a sign.

It’s been so cold. It’s been so bitter.
Perhaps I was long gone already,
just hoping for more.
Perhaps now is the time to let go.

It’s been a good run, no regret about it.
Now, leave while the going is good.

9.26.2021