So Tonight That I Might See You

Relationships often run their course. But we don't. And I'm both heartbroken and frustrated at the phenomenon. As I try to decipher the possibility of a rich life, now existing as an afterlife.   It's not a question of toxicity setting in, but of a river in full spate disappearing into an arid empty bed.   And I ask - why do we hold onto relationships which subtract us as human beings? Because what doesn't lift us, diminishes us; what doesn't inspire us, enslaves us; what doesn't make us see the best of what we are, curdles us.   But.   We hold onto these because we are prisoners of affection, of a history which often consists of laying bare our soul, of being conjoined at the hip in adventures which defined us, of seeing the world through each other's eyes.   And then we see this world of two collapse. There could be too many reasons for any one even deserving a stating. Human nature - both in its proactive compulsions and reactive idiocy -  is the same in its self-destructive propulsion.   We lose our direction because someone is unfaithful; we lose our head because someone has decided to determine our future; we disengage because someone doesn't think our advice deserves attention.   Now, facing the world with dread because of an acidic relationship, makes us smaller versions of ourselves, making us give little of what we are capable of. Because we are affected by what is infinitesimal in infinity's scheme of things.   And we go into a state of statis. In purgatory, araf, bhuvar-lok. Forever in limbo.   If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems of when love is forever grey - 

• Finding Myself Beyond You
• Here We Are in the Years
• Living Inside a Wound

Subscribe to my newsletter 'The Uncuts'

Follow me on Instagram at @sunilgivesup

Get in touch with me on [e-mail]

  The details of the music used in this episode are as follows - The Children of MH17 by Sascha Ende Link: https://filmmusic.io/en/song/the-children-of-mh17 Licence:  https://filmmusic.io/standard-license