Someone ripped the plaster off.

So callously;

Scraped the gash anew;

And just for good measure rubbed salt in the wound then rinsed it out with lemon!

Staying my hand from seeking reprieve.

Hindering me from finding water,

Or even a salve.

l have remained motionless for an age now.

I have even traversed another decade in my journey as I walk amongst the tattered remnants of my soul.

Sometimes;

I feel, as desolate as an unmoored vessel, fearfully awaiting the arrival of the albatross;

Of carrion,

To gnaw at the fragmented shards of my soul -

Which, for the most part are barely held together with the merest hint of paper maché and sellotape.

Waiting for the salt water to gently lap it’s low tide waves until it becomes a tsunami;

A behemoth of a tidal wave ready to rupture the tenuous strands of this vacuous hole,

To cast it asunder, to the murky depths of the deep blue;

For time immemorial…..

And then I remember how to breathe.

Then the sudden realisation that;….

I breathe in time with you!

It dawns on me that the rhythmic cadence of my pulse;

My very heartbeat, has alway, and will ALWAYS, be a replica of yours.

Further still, I, have passed that song,

That grove; on to another soul so I am immediately comforted by your never-ending presence,

Despite your ever fraught absence.

I subsequently reconcile that you are safely harboured within my chest, the way I was once carefully ensconced within the realm of your Queendom.

So to hear the tune of the one song I know better than my own,

I lay with my ears submerged in my bath water and listen to the lullaby of your “thud, thump! Thud, thump. Thud, thump.“

I know know you couldn’t leave me if you tried. You left your mark in the one dance which could never be disturbed.

The secrets therein, burst forth and I am inundated with mental photographs of our chorus.

The great. The alright. And the that didn’t happen if I refuse to acknowledge it.

You left your visage upon my face and your voice in my own larynx.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

I resemble you both dependant on my countenance and know that I am still loved.

This is transendence.