Strife

This is one those nights when I know my pulse won’t win. Every piece of me is fading into oblivion. How I wish oblivion won’t stand to its similes and mean otherwise as a place where I could find you. But when I realize such thing never existed, the inevitable starts to pound my very existence. I have kissed mud in all those bumpy roads and all the pain it has inflicted were nothing compared to what this four letter word engraved into the lines of my inner chest. This is much more than the list I have written as an account to the adjective ‘excruciating’. Your absence is agonizing. Piercing. Stabbing.

How long will I feel like this for?