A simple word, but all these years
Whispered in passing, or none at all.
A coward with a duffel bag of fears,
I learned the run before the crawl.

A simple word I thought meant death,
Marinated in the lost and aching wish,
Better constrained beneath the breath,
But every divorce means relationship.

A simple word for change of seasons.
How many new colors graced my plumes?
Each shade a stranger hue of treason
I painted on the ever paler moon.

A simple word, but cursed the same.
Memories are caricatures- flat and bland.
Colorless photographs of flame
Can’t burn, or hiss, or spew hot brands.

A simple word, but for the downpour.
Will the world ever cease to gray?
Rainy days were mine before,
Now you occupy my dismay.

A simple word… so hard to say.

About viewingcamelot View all posts by viewingcamelot

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