Pieces

Funny thing, this feeling.

One doesn't get used to it, no matter how many times it comes creeping round your door. I haven't anyway.

Tell you what it feels like. Think about being shattered into pieces, like a child's toys, scattered around the yard. That's part of it.

It feels like you've been speeding at 200 mph and crash landed into a bottomless pit.

It feels like hell.

I'm having trouble taking it alone this time. Some things are too much.

So, I seek the familiar, haunt the same old places, try to ignore the sound of shattered dreams.

It all happens at once, lands in your lap like the boy throwing the morning paper up onto the porch, one hell of a landslide.

Worst part is you reach out, open a door, and nobody's waiting.

Here's what happens from here. I'm keeping it all buried.

Never again will I find myself sailing these waters. Never again.