did the curtain fall
when I finally stepped off the stage?
not once did I glance back
and now, months have slipped on by

I no longer harbor echoes of resentment
nor do I cling to whispers of affection
no, I'm left with emptiness
like a blank canvas
once vibrant with color and expression

so now there's only white
I wanted it that way
and I got it
white
covering the picture that we tried to paint

in the absence of our devilish tango
I find myself suspended
a dancer paused mid-motion

a jumper left mid-air
who forgot where, or how he was supposed to fall
to land

at least there was purpose
in our catastrophic choreography
a rhythm to navigate the chaos
a droning beat of determination
to brace the silence

now, in this respite
I face the void you left behind
wondering if emptiness is liberation
or merely the aftermath of survival


© poubelle