Spent

I am spent.

Each petal of the rose in which my heart should cherish, is nothing more than overlooked enchantment meant to seduce the bride I will never be.

I have lost my innocence to friends desires laced with seducing spirits and self-indulgent fantasies.

Yet as I watch them clasp for truth they denied from my sword like tongue I weep with regret as though I have failed God, in my meaningless journey.

I am lonely as I watch my coworkers cut the crusts off their cheese sandwiches so delicately placed in order to hide their mediocre chaos.

Yet each story fascinates me with the weakness of their ideologies based on presumption. I remember their pause as they excused their decisions and laid their hands on their silk blouses hoping that the softness of the fabric would melt their hardened hearts.

I too am hardened, because I no longer see the value of justice and mercy, only the obsessive need to be right which is the foundation of all international wars.

Yet, if I retreat they will let me die like a dog alone in the prairie fields of unfulfilled dreams and windy whispers accusing the warriors who once fought with strength and character.

My hope is deferred like that of an abused child wanting only to see a night without consequences for thinking and breathing. I lay on the bed hoping to see the sunlight revive me and feel the wind remind my lungs to breathe, but instead I face loud voices and angry tones.

Yet if I close my eyes I may have clarity in a dream setting my course straighter on this journey wasted by my bended pose and my naïve wish to smell the roses that once bloomed.

I am spent.