The World at Midnight

It’s funny how things change,

how what used to mean the world

slips away with time and distance

perhaps to be forgotten

or to live on as no more than memory,

a piece of the puzzle of your experience

what made you what you are

in this moment and beyond.

Though those days and people leave their marks,

the scars and souvenirs of life long lived,

there’s always something else

to be found around that next corner,

something waiting to take the place

of that which has been left behind.

There’s nothing certain but uncertainty,

the spinning wheels of time and change

that carry us ever forward,

away from some and to what yet waits

It’s so hard to tell

just what impressions will be made,

what little pieces left behind

will stick with us for more of the journey

and what will fade as our lives turn…

How much did you lose or let go of

to find that which you clutch so tightly?

You’ve changed those colors so often,

how can you know what’s real?

What little left inside of you,

is that all you truly are?

The convictions so casually cast away

must never have had much meaning

to be forsaken in your endless search

for the answers and the truth

How easy it seems to be to strip away

so much that makes you who you are,

like the changing of a wardrobe

dress in that new identity

But take care in what you throw away

to never lose sight of your soul

or one day you’ll look into the mirror

and know naught of what you see

All the signs were there for me to read

if I only could’ve cleared my head

of all the fantastic visions

and dreams that took hold

never to let go

I should’ve known the moment

that I opened up too far

and let too much of me spill forth

that she could never hold onto

so much of the truth

of who I am and how I felt

It asked too much of her

to even pretend to care

a fraction of the same amount,

yet I didn’t even have to try to fall

How much of me would I

have had to cast aside

to make myself small enough

to fit inside those hands and heart?

So easy to reflect upon such foolishness,

but it wasn’t so foolish then,

blinded by a connection made real

through nothing but imagination

It crumbled under my weight so soon,

as surely as I should’ve seen.

The impact of that last step hurt,

but not so much as if I’d been given

what I sought only to realize

it wasn’t what I believed.

So here’s to getting up and walking away

from all that I convinced myself

could hold me up,

collapsed beneath the heaviness

of the truth laid bare

I drempt of you last night

and what might happen if

entirely through happenstance

we were to meet up once again

in some random corner of this

ever expanding world

Would we recognize each other,

the people we’ve turned out to be?

With all those scars and memories

between us now and who we were

when we were young and insincere

who knows where the road might lead?

But with the miles and the years gone by

things could, would never be the same

as they might have been

But maybe we could find something

to take the place of fantasies

better left for other worlds and timelines

Or more likely that we never cross again

outside of idle thoughts that flitter through

It is not ours to see the destination,

only the path that lies ahead

and our roads seem to only intersect s

omewhere in that rear-view mirror

I so often get lost in

Staring at the fun house mirror

seeing your sins reflected

and distorted in the glass

Watching this parade of errors

like gazing in the looking glass,

viewing a potential future

a glimpse into the darkest time line

The worst parts of you on grand display

for all the world to witness

at least a little solace drawn

to see it from someone else instead

But knowing that could have been you

and the depths you could have sunk

leads to little comfort

as you’re forced to face it all

Hard truths to swallow and to learn from

as you witness another’s self-destruction

So long spent on your escape

So much time and effort

into growth and understanding

and for what?

It’s so easy to throw it all away,

turn right back around and walk

into the void you tried so hard

to turn your back on

So much given all for nothing

So much of you to cast aside

only to pick up the pieces

you removed so long ago

and use them to fill the gaps

Becoming someone worthy

just to let the facade fall

when the going gets too tough

All that sacrifice

just to fill the future

with the baggage of the past

Unrecognizable from the beacon you’d become

to the shadow of the truth you hide behind

The thing about consequences

they tend to sneak up on you

no matter the situation

or the circumstance.

They find you in the strangest places

and care little for excuses,

choosing to come back and bite

when their hunger grows too strong.

That Newton’s law about reactions

applies to more than earthly forces.

There’s always something waiting for you

to come back in return.

I don’t know what I truly miss,

the person or the memory

It felt so much like forever

but lasted so little of our lifetimes,

those moments of knowing and sharing,

of mutual understanding and connection

You can’t look back and tell me

that none of that was real

It can’t be disregarded,

abandoned or forgotten

Even so far removed

it creeps up on me time to time

The absence of that closeness,

the void left in the leaving,

the wasted time and effort

all for nothing but the pain

But worst of all, the thought that haunts

of what might have come to pass

had we stayed close and found

where that path we walked would take us

without the broken ending

that led to our separate ways

Sometimes it’s just easier to fall,

to let it all drop to the ground

There’s a certain calmness

in the center of the pile,

where everything has found itself

when you’ve let it go

Maybe that which weighed you down

wasn’t meant to be held onto

and once released it flies away

to someone else’s orbit,

leaving you to stand up on your own

When there’s no one and nothing left

to help carry the load

maybe it’s time to give yourself

the rest you need to rebuild and return

to places where the only back that carries

isn’t your own

I let old ghosts come back to haunt me

to keep my world from feeling empty.

They tear at the scars of old wounds that just won’t heal,

yet somehow the ceaseless noise and presence

is more comfortable than the lonliness

and isolation their screams and tendrils drive away.

So let their spectral fingers tighten around the memories

and pull them out to freshen up

and set back at my feet to trip and torture yet again.

Because better are the familiar failures

than to go and find new ones to fall into my lap