A Wish In The Dark – A Poem

I hold on to pain.

that I find on the streets.

It litters the ground,

broken shards of glass,

forgotten matchbooks,

the occasional forgotten book

that has become fat with rain.

I gather these up,

clutch them to my chest.

The shards of glass,

like so many small diamonds,

cut the palms of my hands.

The matchbooks contain memories,

misspent evenings spent in bars,

the darkness unable to hide the joy

or the heady dance of anticipation.

The books contain stories.

After they have dried out,

the pages are rippled like waves.

I run my finger along the lines,

letting it dip into the water

of the stories being told.

I hold on to the pain

that I find on the streets

but I have to let it go.

My home has become filled

with matchbooks, shards of glass,

bloated books filled with stories,

lost shoes that never completed

their lonely journey home,

a lone necklace made of pearls

that have long ago lost their shine.

I gather these things up,

the shards of glass cutting my hands,

and I relish the pain

for one more moment,

a reminder that I am alive,

that I am breathing.

I go outside

and stand underneath the stars.

I make a wish

for each lost item,

and when the wish is done,

I let it go

so that it can float

up to the sky.

When all that is left

are the shards of glass,

I gather all of them up

into the palms of my hands

and blow as if I am

making a wish.

I watch as the glass

joins the stars,

finding empty spots

amongst the darkness.

The sky shines brighter tonight.

I stand underneath the stars

and I let my pain go,

so that it can find the light

within the darkness.

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