(NOTE: this is a work of fiction. I try to write positive endings most of the time, but this poem has a sad one.)
Dreaming of another day,
drinking hour hands awry;
you’re aching to seal your heart away
from spoils of a broken past.
From wreckage is born
a treasure chest of rusted gold –
but its key has drifted into future seas,
and you’re still stranded in a former life.
Lost on an island in midst of nowhere,
finding relief in footsteps on the sand –
says it’s a temporary refuge,
the only sign that you exist.
Then even this is washed away
by torrents of almighty waves –
a brewing storm explodes,
and the grey clouds in your mind escape.
You remain. Cage bars are bent open,
yet you’re still a prisoner of yourself –
unable to let go of chains
that do not even bind you.
Still dreaming of another day
and drinking final breaths away;
still aching to free your heart
from a future you mistook as the past.
(c) 2015 Katho28