Interval

​This interval is what bothers me.

The minutes that follow,

The silence that settles,

The confusion, the chaos..

Every mistake, 

Resounding like an echo;

And as the end of every week

Or month

Draws near,

And expectations arise,

And memories conjured

Of happy moments

Seeming like things of the past,

Like pieces of a mirror

Reflecting a broken self;

And coming back

To this interval

That follows.


Like a trench in the ocean

Seeming long forgotten

But always looked out for,

As time flies by,

This interval grows;

On the other side of this interval,

Is hope, 

Of a renewed friendship,

Of bonds of eternal care;

And I shall wait,

Silently,

In awkwardness and guilt,

For what I’ve done,

Trapped in this interval

Of nothingness

That will extend 

Until what seems

Like the end of time.



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