deepundergroundpoetry.com

The call home

I fear that I will soon wither away, that it will seem that I was never here to begin with.
The water that inhabits my lungs weighs me down like an an aged iron anchor,
And the numbness is a feeling that i've only ever known all too well.
I fear that I am sinking, and that this time I may not make it out.

The numbness that lives inside my skin is comforting to me,
Because in a way I know now that she'd never left me in the first place.
That happiness is a fever dream that I know will never come to me.
I am thankful for her numbness, because she is all that is left of me.
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I feel as if I am waiting for something to happen, a final crescendo to call me home.
But it never comes ; and I am stuck here sinking, waiting, and wasting.
I long for my call home, in hopes that I will see him again some day, somehow.
In hopes that the feeling of her numbness will subside ; but it never fucking does.

To my dearest grandfather,
Te Quiero mucho, Abuelo. I will see you again some day.
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