The smell of burning leaves

I stand here at 23:00 on a Saturday evening on the driveway under redbud, hickory, oak, sweetgum and maple trees, stars twinkling, my thoughts at rest, realising I am and always have been alone.

Can I die tomorrow?

My sadness has no end.

I am adrift amongst strangers.

There is only temporary relief in the form of football games and parties to distract me from myself.

Otherwise…sigh…one last heartbeat away from death.

One last breath until my melancholy is no more.

Originality? Not in me.

I am not lost. I know where I am.

I cannot look into the eyes of another person without falling hopelessly in love.

Someone, please relieve me of me.

I want to be no more, make no more promises with my eyes I cannot keep, make no more dreams or wishes that I cannot fulfill.

Please let me die in my sleep tonight.

I have lived long enough.

Thank you, ambivalent benign universe for having no response.  Your nonreply is answer enough.

Time to retire to bed and silently cry myself to sleep as I have done for the past 41 years — my secret only I know about.

Tonight I hurt beyond description.

Let me die in peace.

Is that too much to ask since I can’t have my fifth-grade soulmate back?

Must I go on searching in vain another four decades?

Please, no.  Just stop breathing.

The stars won’t care, won’t know, won’t miss me.

I don’t want to go on any longer, don’t want to find thought-numbing distractions day after day…

Let tonight be my last goodbye.

No more dreams, no more nightmares…


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