yet, I know that pull
towards that dark abyss
of the harsh goodbye
I cannot explain.
But it's not because of you.
It's only because of you
that I bear the pain
too murky to explain.
It's magnetic, the pull,
A gift by saying goodbye,
an opening here if I join the abyss.
We're told to look into the abyss,
and that it looks back into you.
We have the choice of hello or goodbye,
the choice of which kind of pain.
It's still so hard to ignore that pull,
saying surrender, and there's no need to explain.
It lies, there's always the need to explain.
Can I let you see inside my own abyss?
And see how I cling to life's pull
I only stumble when I don't think of you.
I want to ease, not cause more pain.
I cannot bear your face when you say goodbye.
It's such a final word, goodbye,
with so much left to explain.
How long will it last, your pain,
if mine is over, gone into the abyss.
I don't want to do this to you.
Yet I cannot deny the pull.
I ride the tug of war, always feeling the pull
to end the struggle, bid it goodbye.
The farewell is not for you.
Maybe because I can't explain,
I run from the abyss
but feel like I spread pain.
Either way I cause pain, and and everyone is pulled
closer to their own abyss. This calls for my goodbye.
There's so much to explain, but how can I burden you?
Today's prompt was to write a sestina. The prompt explains the rules of the form. Sestina...the word sounds like it should be a sort of party or a dance. Hey everybody, let's sestina! It didn't work that way. There is a discipline in writing a structured poetic form, and it can be harsh, but it's a damn good exercise.