Maintenance

Try to move on.

It’s easy to say

“I don’t care”

And walk away.

That’s the easy part.

Maintenance afterwards hurts.

Sitting around feeling like

“Nothing can get worse”

And then it does.

And you try to pick yourself up from the pieces,

Telling yourself to get it together.

Like broken lines in a torn up letter.

But it’s hard.

Once you stop walking,

There’s only you.

Even the torment of others would be better than it being just “only you”.

Then there’s drifting.

Feeling detached; nothing is uplifting.

There’s fog in your eyes.

Won’t anyone come help me?

No.

Not even myself.

Author's Note

Broken rhyme schemes.

Reviews

[OnlycallmeKathryn]

I really like this. It's so heartbreakingly true.