…I can still feel you upon my skin

Some nights I feel the weight of our unfinished story
it awakens deep in my soul
I remember your footsteps fading before I even realised
that you were walking away
but love is forever restless and if I am candid with myself
I can still feel you upon my skin
and I still hear you whispering like the lure of an unread book
that still carries the memories that I never meant to keep
silence is louder than promises
all the still unanswered questions lie curled like fallen leaves
buried deep inside of me slowly becoming fragile, with neglect
their answers can’t save us now but I still feel them there
when the night grows thin fluttering in desolate darkness
we are an unfinished story written in random pieces
never given the grace of a final line the ending was not a moment
but a long, painful unravelling
a slow, slow, dissolving into inevitable devastation
now all of our unfinished dreams sleep inside the dimmest corners
in the deep depths, of my broken heart
not peacefully, never peacefully, but with the soft, restless, unrest
of something that I now know should have become
more than just a distant memory
and as I let it rest, and I let it remain, grief falls heavily upon me
and it begins to feel like a place I have willingly wandered into
a landscape, carefully carved from what we almost were
I have now come to accept that all of my questions
languishing in the shadows
are exactly where they were always meant to be
for there are no answers and there will be no closure
and some things will still linger even though they were never,
not ever, meant to bloom
and some things will stay because they know
they have nowhere else to go
© Ann Bagnall