Drunken in loneliness,
embraced by space,
and silence is reaching out for my wounded soul
like an angel of death.
My salvation,
–your eyes–
depicted in my mind.
Yet I’m feeling blind,
without a touch of yours
that would magically wipe out
all bad memories
of a long-ago past life,
where happiness seemed unbreakable and endless.
But fate
cunningly put a spoke in our wheel.
And now I’m sitting here
submerged in empty darkness,
waiting and longing
for the coup de grâce.
©2024, Vasiliki Papadopoulou
This poem is a visceral plunge into longing and despair, where loneliness becomes almost intoxicating—*”drunken in loneliness, embraced by space.”* The imagery is stark and haunting: silence personified as a deathly angel, salvation reduced to a mental mirage of *”your eyes.”* The contrast between past happiness (*”unbreakable and endless”*) and present ruin is gutting, especially with fate’s cruel interference (*”cunningly put a spoke in our wheel”*). The final lines, *”waiting and longing for the coup de grâce,”* suggest a soul so wounded it craves the final blow. Raw, aching, and beautifully bleak.
Thank you for reading and the kind words. 😊🙏
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