Should have known

It would, come to an end. I was

Surprised, sadness – it comes in biting

Waves, like the mosquitos of a hot summer day

Taking a piece of your flesh, leaving you

With an itcy, unsatisfied feeling…

I MUST tell the truth! It’s the only way I know

How to come to terms with this…melancholy inside of me

I am a little, just a tiny bit, bitter. I am the leftover

Grease, dark, burnt, and flaky

Barely retaining the flavor of whatever was

Cooked in the frying pan.

 

The end is a bittersweet, burnt flavor. Unsatisfying, surprised to see it’s

Body so close to those last three words…The end

I want to caress The End, tell him that we are

Not over, only, Passing time

Until i return..trying to fix whatever was wrong…

 

The End…it is the END of this poem, and I am not ready!

I am not ready, I am not ready, I am not ready…

There is still so much more to say, so much more to do, so much more to

Fret over, words to correct, phrases to rearrange, add, subtract, alter, and obliterate.

 

When I

First became a writer…truly, I began to write poetry and

Short stories…I thought I understood

Shakespeare on some level. How he must have felt

After ending every sonnet, every play…

How Jane Austen must have felt..ending Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility..

How Maya Angelou

Must have felt after ending Still I Rise and

Phenomenal Woman

 

It is never enough, I realize this – Not. Ever.

A writer’s job is never done, the craft must always strive to

Be the absolute best of our psyches, inner workings of both

Our minds and our hearts, working together in a passionate

Loving embrace, attempting to make sense of the

Chaotic, beautiful, ugly and peaceful world around us

 

..Her mind never shuts off, even if the End is so

Unbearably near..

 

But it must, it is

The End.