retreat

don’t have plans to runaway, though it might be best
to see sights i haven’t laid eyes on

going out to see familiar faces, doesn’t put me at ease
not like it did before all of this

keeping my hands busy only bores me, they feel better idle
or kept at my side in surrender

the creative spark i once had ignited, has fizzled out
smouldered by unkindness

seeing social feeds, of new life and continued love
only makes me miss more

the future doesn’t cast down lights, but covers roads with nightfall
as i graduate towards the next

there are no second chances, to retrieve the past
it slips away to easily

like a novel written thoroughly, with the end chapters missing
all for naught it seems

the words and the memories written, now just as worthless to you
as the time spent creating

far off lands look comfortable, if only as a means of retreat
but i’ve never been known to leave

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