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An extract from an unwritten diary

I have been contemplating an end
though hesitant
as I want to guard against fatalism

feeling paralysed
as if somehow I’d stepped
out of the moment

I guess it was an inevitable consequence
of holding on too tightly
and not allowing a thought to stray
more than a quick trip

When I stop to think
I remember a first dance
but it seems that if I don’t stop
then I don’t think at all
or at least
I don’t think to think

Stepping out
has been far too abrasive
and a dust has settled
that fails to animate this residue

Over linished and without shine
an abandoned reflection
and an eagerness for tomorrow
to bring more than
a drip-feed of heavy cloud

It was all but impossible
to hold any composure
the morning after
a harder night before

Verbally she wrote a Dear John scenario
as if she had plagiarised the words
directly from my thoughts

Making a connection
“the” connection
imagined yet oh so real…so very real
too real for comfort
and she was right

The shock of her being so
caused me realise that whatever I said
and however I said it
it could and would be less than enough
for a foreclosure on all we have shared

A persuasion for severance
has been a companion
to me recently I must confess
and know I have a truth to guide
but I am uncertain of it’s purity

but am content
not to step on roses
in fear that they’re thorned
nor allowing fate
to become an executioner
for my ineptitude

after all
was it not fate that lead me
or misled me to this point
to this vacuum from reason
leaving me to agonise
consequences for actions
I may commit to

I cannot be sure so therefore
must entrust and await a better light