Seven* days
Just seven days
I know
We're all morphing
We're all changing
In so many ways

Hope I won't forget you
The old you
It's the solitude
In these seven days
Where I'll find you
Most valued.

In a bus full of strangers
Here I am
I'm fighting back
All my tears of anger

Today
Heaven has gained another angel
I may not know her
But I'm very sure
She is special,
Amazing
She is beautiful

She is my second reminder
That life is dear
Live
Laugh
And love
Before there's no more
Tomorrow

Leave me alone
In the pain
That burns
Over and over
Again

Today
I tried
To write a villanelle
And
*I died

All must be perfect
The scars of imperfection
They haunt me again

Pastels are pretty
Pastels are sweet
They leave their mark
But they wear out

Pastels are amazing
Each shade unique
Their colors blend
A work of fine art

Pastels are amusing
A childhood toy that'll soon be
Chucked away in a corner
Forgotten by it's owner

Pastels are fragile
Pastels get dull
They get stained
After a while

Pastels will break
Pastels are weak
They get crushed
And they'll never get fixed

People are like pastels
Inside we're dying
Outside we're forgotten
I guess both are probably broken