Underwhelming

Sometimes life gives you sparks, when you dream of fireworks.

Ashes when you want flame.

Trickles when you need rain.

Sometimes the messiest things end in anonymity; quietly, leaving little to no trace.

It almost feels unjustified, left with a hunger for more that can't be claimed by anything less than a spew of words so venomous they hurt you too.

One can't go down without the other, I'd be okay losing it meant they did too.

This ache, this hurt, it has no home and nowhere to be, it exists without solace, without peace.

The exit door is gone, gently blown away in the wind, taken away by a sweet summer song.

But here I stand, wanting, needing more,

Needing them to hurt, needing them to feel, needing them to know what lives, what breathes.

I understand I'll never make my peace; I'll never be happy with the end, but I sincerely hope that misery finds a new host.

One in them, in the farthest part of their heart, the deepest crook of their soul, slowly eating away at whatever joy they held onto, until they're empty,

A pit.

Despairing, broken, ripped,

A shell of something vibrant, maybe then the rain will fall as it was meant.