White walls enclose a single chair,
My island of solitude,
Perched precariously close to a reflecting pool.
In the reflection, my heart lies visible
And through the ever changing ripples
Her face forms.

My innocent muse that drove me to live,
Completely oblivious to that fact.

Broken chains of letters,
A photo here and there,
Can they really fill the whole left by a nomad?

The image of golden pigtails and the scent of soap
Fill my head,
Clashing with the figure that is before me.
She moves in a daze through echoing rooms,
Touching the peeling walls with her fingertips.

Does she remember my crushing bear hugs
And our short lived trips to the beach?
Or much like me,
Will her memories get lost in the tide?

In the luminescent water, she collapses,
Falling onto the battered love seat
That still harbors the smells of nicotine and detergent.
From my distant place of solitude
I can see the resentful tears slide down her cheek.

An echo of pain hits me.
A need to linger fills me.

But the acidic taste of salt water enters the back of my throat,
The pounding of waves blocks my ears,
All reminders and warnings,
telling me that I no longer belong there with her.

A bittersweet smile pulls on my lips,
My selfish nature taking over,
As I slowly move away from the pool,
From her,
From life;
Gripping onto an answer
That unlocks the door to
Purgatory.

*This is my original piece of work and this statement proves that it is.