Печаль

Just when you think no more sorrow, no more bad luck or despair, it hits again in your face. It fills the deepest pores with salty burning pain and leaves you choking on the tears. And you can’t do much but cry, even though it’s painful as the vessels are dry and the heart is out of power.

I am guilty of a poor soul that didn’t make up the decisions, whose pride was overwhelming. My life puts me back on my knees, slapping my face with strong wind.

But I am not giving up on lying to myself that it in fact was a joke, that you are going to text me saying, there was a mistake and you didn’t die 40 days ago. That the message wishing a  Happy Birthday two weeks ago reached you, that the words unwritten were send over my heart.

Here I am facing another lonely battle with my heart dying of its endeavors. I am facing it, that emptiness and disbelief and gradually building the core that is stale. I don’t know if anything will bring me back. Again.

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