The Struggle
FleetusMcGee posted in The F*-Word
By: Mollie
So you think you’re in love?
Scoffs the old women,
carefully eyeing the flesh which clung tightly
to the bone,
the wrinkle free eyes and rosy cheeks.
You don’t know what love is,
you don’t know until you’ve fought teeth and
claw,
Fought until the exhaustion beats you if the
pain doesn’t,
only to lose it, because it was already lost.
A withered hand rises to a flailing chest,
her heart heaving with the sheer burden of the
fight for breath. I
t’s a fight just to fight now.
As her eyelids flicker like moths without light,
dying in the darkness.
Her wedding ring chipped and unpolished,
because some things cease to matter,
just as some things matter more,
and it may not be the best excuse,
but it’s an excuse all the same.
They cannot know,
but we can’t forget.
And it leaves a bitter taste,
as the curtain falls, and her small hands envelop the forsaken tired
ones.
We can’t keep resetting the scales,
and misery doesn’t wait for kings.
Her eyes close for the last time,
as she recalls the violence of the struggle,
and remembers,
it is not for her to fight,
anymore.
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