An extract from an unwritten diary 

I have been contemplating an end

though hesitant

as I want to guard against fatalism

feeling paralysed

as if somehow I’d stepped

out of the moment

I guess it was an inevitable consequence

of holding on too tightly

and not allowing a thought to stray

more than a quick trip

When I stop to think

I remember a first dance

but it seems that if I don’t stop

then I don’t think at all

or at least

I don’t think to think

Stepping out

has been far too abrasive

and a dust has settled

that fails to animate this residue

Over linished and without shine

an abandoned reflection

and an eagerness for tomorrow

to bring more than

a drip-feed of heavy cloud

It was all but impossible

to hold any composure

the morning after

a harder night before

Verbally she wrote a Dear John scenario

as if she had plagiarised the words

directly from my thoughts

Making a connection

“the” connection

imagined yet oh so real…so very real

too real for comfort

and she was right

The shock of her being so

caused me to realise that whatever I said

and however I said it

it could and would be less than enough

for a foreclosure on all we have shared

A persuasion for severance

has been a companion

to me recently I must confess

and know I have a truth to guide

but I am uncertain of it’s purity

but am content

not to step on roses

in fear that they’re thorned

nor allowing fate

to become an executioner

for my ineptitude

after all

was it not fate that lead me

or misled me to this point

to this vacuum from reason

leaving me to agonise

consequences for actions

I may commit to

I cannot be sure so therefore

must entrust and await a better light