Night time sucks. I just lay here infested by terrible memories of a better time. I miss her. I shouldn’t but I do. She is the love of my life and the ignition of my ruin. I’m not going to do what I’m going to do because of her but because she’s gone. And I did it. I ended it. I wanted to be free of the burden of knowledge, but some shit just sticks. The worst part of it is the happiest memories of her are the ones that hurt the most. The ones I can’t purge. It’s an everlasting thorn in my flesh. Burrowing deeper and deeper.
“I Have a Rendezvous with Death”
I HAVE a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear…
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Alan Seeger