‘It's been years’, she says, ‘When’-
‘Soon,’ I say, ‘soon, I promise.’
She sighs, knows she’s defeated.
Knows her effort is futile.
‘Soon,’ She repeats, ‘promise’.
It's like a spell, that word.
Once its been said there’s no going back.
Once its said you are instantly forced to succumb
To the false glimmer of hope that word provides.
You are entranced.
When will we ever leave this place?
We sit here,
In this darkness,
In the loneliness isolation brings.
Our only source of light is each other.
But no light burns forever,
And soon our resolve will crumble to dust and fall to the floor.
To join the ashes scattered on the ground
The ashes that our the only thing left of our future,
now a gaping black hole
the burnt remains of hopes and dreams.
The burnt remains of loved ones lost
Of what could have been.
And what a lie that word is.