Leftover echoes

Leftover echoes

 Every time I meet someone and
I start to think that they may be
the one I am looking for which really
only means somebody who will love 
me the way I love them I fall failing 
miserably flat on my face causing me 
to pull away from ever finding who 
and what I need slowly erasing myself 
from the human race until I disappear 
without trace living in hills hiding from 
anyone and everyone for when I do 
try I am always finding only leftover 
echoes of what and who I am looking 
for, only just very small remnants of 
old forgotten memories trying desperately
hard to hold on to the emotions and 
feelings from the past back in a time 
when we can remember being the 
happiest we  have ever been in our 
lives those remarkable moments that 
made us smile and laugh  that felt like 
it would last forever, until today when 
all of the laughter has been replaced 
with so many tears that it felt like 
falling rain as the feeling of happiness 
and bliss is only reserved for all 
the other people, since sadness is 
where I now live and the sun has been 
covered by clouds and darkness creating 
an atmosphere of bitter cold and fog 
everywhere, which kills off all
of the beauty in life, blotting out
color leaving grey and black or 
white and no others along with the
warmth which just like our hearts
 that grow colder the longer we
 stay locked up in our own minds
 that feel as if it is only a jail cell
 somewhere down deep in the
 center of hell, as we watch the
 world go by and people laughing
 having a great time playing in the
 sunlight and everything is okay
looking at them hugging and kissing 
touching, sigh, touching it has been 
so damn long since I have felt the soft 
warm skin of another or the feel of 
loving hands from a lover or even 
just a hug from a friend, maybe I am 
what I feel inside the dead void of 
any life at all taken from me from 
those I used to call friends and lovers 
who have only delivered pain and anger 
through their evil endeavor to only 
use me as a punching bag for physical 
and mental abuse until I am who you 
see this man at one time a King well 
respected by everyone to this a broken 
mess unable to rule anything at all waiting 
only for death to call for if it did I would 
gladly answer to die alone filled with 
many years of guilt and sorrow never 
even knowing that feeling of ever being 
truly loved by anyone at all.

 Poet Richard M Knittle Jr.
A #Poets Journey
Texas Poet Laureate Nominee 2016-2020

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