Adeline

A poem about choices made out of our own hands no matter how hard we try.

Adeline
by Keaton Foster



Endless are her eyes,
screaming as to why.
Standing quite alone
at the very edge.

One side is life,
the other is death—
pointing beyond.

Soft, her words,
somber songs,
whispers of truth
within the folds
of so many lies.

Regardless of tone
or lack of bravado,
I can hear it all—
every single word.

Adeline.

Once, I loved her.
Awkward
was the way
I needed her
more than most.

She was the beat
to my heart,
the air to each breath.

Now, she is none of those—
and even less.

I wished her away.
She escaped,
left us behind.
Leaving while fleeing
is not really a choice.

Adeline.

I alone remain.
I see from afar,
but the distance
is quite close.

I know what’s next
because I understand
what was before.

She is broken—
not by me,
but despite us.

She has returned
to what was before.
She warned me,
and I refused to believe
that someone so beautiful
could be so damaged.

But she is.

Adeline.

Doing time
in a prison of the mind.
Empty is her heart,
solemn, her chest—
a space devoid of love,
not because of what she wished,
but because of what I made so.

Now I have to stand here
and see her as she was—
and as what she has become.

Now I must face what I’ve done,
because like her,
before all of this,
before us,
I was not capable of love.

I tried to be, for her sake,
but such a thing is not possible—
nor was it ever
for either of us…


Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2023