Can’t be controlled
The feeling that I have carved a hole out of my heart.
I reached in and spooned out soft rotten things
Supposing for a while that it might be better to leave them where they lie,
In the hopes that new life would sprout in the spoiled flesh of old fruits.
Maybe not hard enough this time.
But it’s better this way.
To simply let necessary things degrade.
To excavate the old experiences
So they can be replaced by new ones.
Perhaps the space where I spent so much time will find,
That it does not need the likes of me.
And it was I that needed this space to give me meaning
In the dark times that I was lacking.
But that time was passed,
And like a tithing, I felt a duty to keep coming back.
To let it go now,
Feels like quitting.
But who’s counting?
Who is even watching?