I’m falling quicker now.
I know that an end does await me,
willingly do I embrace it,
but still fear rides up my shoulders.
Fear that when the end does come,
that I will face it alone.

I walk stone gray streets
in an even darker city
that sings malice throughout the night.
I know that when the night ends,
I will still be alone.
Forever solitary when I wish to be whole.

To say that I have a broken wing,
is to say that I had them at all.
And there is no evidence now of them
if at one time I did have wings.
But as many before me have said,
I’m no angel, and I doubt I ever will be.

I am the tired shore after a long winter,
hoping that the tides will continue to cover me,
perhaps until there is no more.
But then summer comes,
and the sun warms me as it only can
and with crowds upon me, I still feel lonely.

I don’t know how life works.
I don’t know how to find the love that I desire.
I’m lost and I don’t even know where I began.
When I was a child, I kept hoping the truth would come.
I grew up and it still escapes my understanding.
It seems I shall be alone for the rest of my life.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017