It slowly creeps in,
doesn’t it?
The empty feeling one tries to forget.
Its arms enfold around you
like a lover,
embracing you in the silent despair,
holding you close to the truth
you had hoped to run away from.
The understanding that Fate
has other plans for you,
and not the plans you had hoped
to find.
It clings to you,
pressing upon your will
whispering
in your weakened ear
those things you know must be true:
that you are unworthy of
what you always gaze into the horizon for.
Then you wonder
in the disquiet dark
if you were not meant for that
what were you meant for?

© Johanna Fugitt 2017