Goodbye forever, fleeting spotlight.
I’ll remember you
But the stage is no longer mine
So long I feared the dark
I was afraid to step out
But the dark cannot be avoided
Or mitigated
Or even contained.
It covers the ground you walk,
Encasing the trees and their roots
The flowers’ lack of colour
The roadside curb and accompanying footpath.
It’s everywhere.
To the shadow that pleaded me to stay,
I’ve stopped listening to you
You took my form and enclosed it in darkness
You thrived in the spotlight
But now you’re gone.
All that’s left is me
and the dark.
The inevitable darkness
I'm walking through some grass now
My hands reach out and feel
A variety of stones and flowers and petals
Of a sprawling summer field.
With a cautious **** I opened one eye
I squinted at the neon yellow
But soon I saw a broad blue sky
bolstered by a vibrant meadow
Though confused at first, I now realised
That what lies in the dark isn’t so bad
It’s a beginning as much as it is an end
The birds sang freedom
as they soared the skies.
That wretched shadow
Filled my head with lies.
Goodbye forever, fleeting spotlight
My act of pretending is done
Gone is the glare that distorted my vision
Gone is the glare that you once shone.
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
On the surface of a glossy table,
sits a set of coffee rings.
Faded stains which incorporate
themselves to the table cling.
The brown bean’s bitter bite
Recounts an hour of pure delight.
Through site and mind has the taste transpired
to a longing time of invoking fire,
and shuttered blinds, and abating attire.
A cluttered mind that never tired.
As the grip acquit the coffee cup’s handle,
a stain pertained, on the mantle.
On the surface of a coffee table,
sits a broken glass of wine
Scattered shards across the hearth
now rest among the pine.
As drink dripped down the table leg,
memories clamped like a stubborn peg.
Delicate feelings that once were bottled
now freely flow, like the wine that toppled.
And made a plash upon the floor-
A drunken crash, a heavy pour.
All the wine- now gone to waste,
With no divine aftertaste.
On the surface of a broken table,
sits a series of regrets.
A shattered heart with sunken scars.
A drunken insomniac.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC