Red.
Red pours from the ****
a great divide,
a tragic fall,
you don't know what comes next,
so you sit there stunned -
terrified.
Black.
Husk-like soul,
lost in winter's hold,
you study the forming scab,
for days, months,
pretending it's normal now,
knowing the stab-wound rests
only just below.
Pink.
Fresh skin, a coat of new paint,
waiting for your world
to return to full bloom,
somehow the memories,
the aches, the pains,
are slowly erased
by a Lethean embrace.
White.
Now you're far gone;
yes,
you've moved on,
but sometimes,
the summer sun shines
on new silver skin,
and suddenly
you're back
at the beginning
again.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 12:23 PM UTC
Red.
Red pours from the ****
a great divide,
a tragic fall,
you don't know what comes next,
so you sit there stunned -
terrified.
Black.
Husk-like soul,
lost in winter's hold,
you study the forming scab,
for days, months,
pretending it's normal now,
knowing the stab-wound rests
only just below.
Pink.
Fresh skin, a coat of new paint,
waiting for your world
to return to full bloom,
somehow the memories,
the aches, the pains,
are slowly erased
by a Lethean embrace.
White.
Now you're far gone;
yes,
you've moved on,
but sometimes,
the summer sun shines
on new silver skin,
and suddenly
you're back
at the beginning
again.
About the painful process that is "moving on".