The leaves fell
uneasily
that day.

A heavy gloom
sat tense
in the air.

The road
was long,
but today
it seemed
even longer.

My legs
were tired
and my
throat
choked
down the
air
dense
with
unconfronted
anxieties

Trudging along
amongst
the dying leaves
no longer
bright
with their
vibrant
reds and yellows,
but
various shades
of death,
decay
and
unresolved
matters
of contention.

- I think about
all of
my lasts
and wish
that this was
one
of them.

I kick myself
for even
contemplating it
but, God,
I'm so tired.

My heart heavy
each night
with a guilt
that isn't deserved
as I flutter
between sleep
and unrest.

-
The leaves
fell
uneasily
that day.
It was the last of many.

The sun was hot
but the sky was grey.

My chest
was heavy
with the feeling
of fighting
a battle
you just want to quit
because
honestly
what is the point
to any of this
to all of this

I would torture myself
for all of these hours
if it were for nothing
and yet
the road grows longer
and the days
shorter
and I just
don't think
that I'm going to make it home
tonight
for supper

I just don't think I will.

I don't

I don't
want to.

I said...
I said -

I said once
that I would never
give up on you
but I wrote the book
On Letting Go

and I know very well
what it's like to be alone.