The Walk

I carry love
both for myself and another
a love that was once shared by the two of us
but now only requires one to support.
It is a burden, and it is painful,
the straps that bind it to me biting,
cutting into my flesh soft and pale.
Blood runs from the blisters, even
as the blood cuts off, leaving my limbs numb
and cold and senseless.
Those few times I can place down the burden
I choose those moments to feast,
but only in the company of another.
Someone who once accompanied me on my walks.
The journey between though is long,
and it is becoming harder to sustain and
I fear if I keep pushing myself, I will die.
But I need this,
because no other path can satisfy,
no other feeling can draw true nature from these
dead veins.
And though I ache and I cry and scream,
and though I beg and plead for a partner,
I know I am alone, to carry this burden,
a love that was once shared by the two of us.
Both for myself and another,
I carry love