Ache

Some days,
I ache, the kind of ache
That seems to hold me
Captive in a cage
Of just this moment.

Then this moment
Becomes the next
And then the next
And all I know
Is the pain.

Is this what
My life has been
Reduced to? Is this
All I will ever have?
This ache.

One day,
I fell, a rag doll
I became, boneless,
Spirit less. In a heap
I laid, unconscious.

I awoke, automated,
Machines pushing air
In my lungs, forcing
My body to live, but
All I felt was the ache.

With each breath,
I ached.
With each heartbeat,
I ached, and
With each ache,
I wept, bitterly.

With the passing of time,
The ache increased,
And words were whispered
Into my ear,
"It is darkest before the dawn."

But what kind of dawn
Waits for me?
What will I find
Beyond this ache.
I had grown tired of crying.

When all I could do
Was cry, I grew tired of it.
All that remained was
The ache.

Then there was nothing.
No ache.
No pain.
No me.
Nothing but a memory.

Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets