Pen in hand and thoughts beyond irides green and deep,
Wondering if you still think of me or if my name would you dare speak.

Another bites the dust after all and left of their luggage behind,
And so here I sit again, atop a mountain of realisation that I still have a pair yet to find.

Another crack in the porcelain heart that I’ve struggled so hard over the years to protect, Another notch in the belt of heartache, another sleepless night to reflect.

Another lonely night in this dark room, media tightly wrapped by my hand, A script of thoughtfulness that will shortly become inept.

As I watch it all play out on the screen through tired moments of seen, wanting to drift off and forget but awoken by the torture that has been.

But all of the scenes seem to be the same now, the show must go on..
This movie seems to last forever and a new chapter has begun.

Sat atop the baggage left behind, popcorn in hand.
Left here wondering if this movie will ever eventually end.