poetry battles

A pale

Red dot

Is all I see

From this miserable place.

A pale

Red dot

That is home; seeing it

Reminds me of

The laughter of my children,

And the smile of my spouse.

I’ve been

Trapped here

With all this

Water

For years. I hate

The stuff.

I never let it

Touch my skin if

I can help it.

It falls from the sky,

Though, and what can I do

To protect myself?

It sizzles.

It burns.

It pockmarks my flesh.

And so I huddle here,

Alone in this hovel,

Away from my pale red dot.

in the end it wasn't the loss

of connection

that did me in, nor

the last of my rations

(crumbs and crinkled plastic

at the bottom of a

garbage can)

which spelled my doom,

or rather your doom,

the doom? the loss

of your hold on me

of home and hearth

and family and people

and all those old

connections

and desires

and beliefs,

it wasn't the loss of communication

between us that led to my

forgetting you all, it was

the pain of remembering.

the longing, always

this longing

i was not strong enough

to survive my memories alone.

you are too wonderful

my old home, my old soul,

i had to let you go,

because i loved you

too much

to live