Relocation

Flicking through pages, with words unwritten,
Throwing out that which is unopened,
Staring at full memories, otherwise forgotten,
A smattering of half-dreamt dreams. Aborted.
A haven of keepsakes no longer to be kept,
Dust to fall on the polish,
A creaking door on an empty wardrobe -
I dare to stare into abysses now formed
For there’s a dead self staring back at me.

~ Jack J

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5. recognizingthevoiceless reblogged this from thejackjblog and added:

   Nikz’s Note: Gah. The last two lines. Really, thank you for writing this.

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