We used to try.
Then fight.
Then try again…
To be better versions of ourselves…
Depression.
Pride.
Scapegoat egos.
Oh! –
What a match for a fire…!
Strangled your devoted drug doll –
Dropped her into beggars drawers…
But now…
Now
We’re being.
Better versions of ourselves…
Artifacts – set. stationed. in museums
You aren’t even allowed
to touch the dust.
Let. Alone.
Unchanged. Unmoved.
Separated by that thin glass of trust.
And that’s the manner of memories…
More surreal as time passes
Exaggerated semi-lies
Never to be relived
Confined
…Rusting sublime.
So –
Stay there.
Just fine….
Different
I hope –
Than the people we were.
I used to peek under layered covers
To ponder the shadow of those dreams
Now –
I don’t want to dream of your shadow…
No.
No more.
This heavy coat of olden days
Must hang in the place
In which it was laid to rest
I crave enlightenment…
The phosphorescent life
I take a fresh bite
Of all that’s new
Chew.
And refuse to taste the salty-sweet pages on our complicated past story
This.
This.
Happens.
To everyone.
Each.
A variation – out of tune.
Hues of all colors…
But oh!!!! –
Those greens
And –
…Those purple bruised blues!
Life.
Broken.
Seeds.
They split.
So all that’s green.
Can come.
From it.
