Private Limbo

 

How many eyes have watched us move,

while we pay for the love we never received?

The hymns and quiet chants of my own mind—

will they ever be heard?

I miss the weight of fierce affections,

the gravity of touch that once pulled me whole,

yet I drift again into my private limbo,

a tide between memory and tomorrow.

The broken mirrors we call hearts—

shards of good and evil we never name.

I walk among the monsters,

a sword of thought in my hand.

Whether it cuts or only glints,

I cannot tell.

But what other weapon is mine to lift?