Departure

How does one depart from happiness? I cannot decide the best route— tears is the obvious answer. There is a well inside of me and the water is drying up. I try to swim but my feet touch the ground. What of the brick itself— I coat them in cement, glue them and tape them together; give me something. Anything. My tears will dry with the well. Departure cannot be sewn together.

Empty space cannot be filled by the well for it is empty too. My eyes burn. Happiness slips from the bricks and the cement cannot replace a feeling. My tears cannot bring my happiness back to me— limerence. Will obsession sew my empty space together? The well inside of me becomes heavy and the air in my lungs tries to fill the space. There must be another way. A tightrope from one end to the next— I will fall. The water has dried. I never learned to swim.

— ODH