The weight of all these sorrows is
So unbearably heavy
At times suffocating and grey
A thick fog of toxicity
(I need fresh air)
The sky provides no relief
Streaked with the citrus and fresh blood
Of a July evening
That only serves as a reminder of where I am not
(I feel older than the calendar says I am)
I want to sink into it
That sky-scape watercolor reality
But instead bury myself in the bed that once
Belonged to two people
And now only to one
No comments:
Post a Comment