Not with a bang or a sigh. Nothing will mark its coming. It happens slowly; is happening as you read this. Pieces get lost, misplaced and replaced over time, until the puzzle is finished and gone at the same time.
But my eyes are still open, watching it all fly away. Where is my complacent smile? When did the laughter stop? How did all this crap get stuffed into this tiny place so quickly? ... have to breathe. The pain by my eyes will stop once I close them, but the pain behind my eyes can still be seen.
Reality blurs. Momentary sense of my mortality. Will anyone want my memory, like all the other treasures I have lost? The temporary darkness that rules my thoughts tells me No. With no one to argue the point, why should I think it a lie?
Still, with all this blatant thievery, I try to find something to laugh at, to bring a partial warmth to the small place left inside. Feeling this, the pain and the lie of the smile I try to show, means I still own this part of me, no one has stolen it from me .... yet.
Ciao
