I guess I might have lied
when I swore
to forget
that the price of freedom is
a *****
we've misleadingly named
Regret
and I think I
must have meant it
when I cleverly defied,
"Your gods voice is most deceiving
and his fountains are all dry!"
But I may have stretched
the truth
the moment that I said
I wouldn't miss your presence
until they pronounced you
dead
And as my life unfolds me
a broken stream of starts
it tickles my heart oddly
to know your days grow gray
as mine begin to
spark.
But maybe I still see you
in the corner of my mind
and your whispered wisdom
from the past
sneaks in from time to time
Umbilical chains
rooted in nostalgia
tether us to this weight
but maybe mutual understanding
will not evolve too late
And though you are my
anchor
the skies my spirit found
but how I wish that
you could see
this high above the ground.
Copyright Krystelle Bissonnette