that spring i had to leave
before the lilac trees bloomed.
the hills of peace slowly changed
to the streets washed with bleach.
empty mountain dew bottles
on the pavement
took the place of the grass.
this city was never going to grow
because people were always so upset
about days with rain.
three weeks in
i caught myself wondering.
wondering if:
if the color of the lilac i left was
as purple as a healing bruise?
if i climbed their tower blocks
could i see the other side?
if the time were to stop
would that still be called eternity?
then a lifeless object rang
and reminded me
to get back to my new life.
the imagine of the budded trees
slowly erased from my mind.
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 5:00 PM UTC
that spring i had to leave
before the lilac trees bloomed.
the hills of peace slowly changed
to the streets washed with bleach.
empty mountain dew bottles
on the pavement
took the place of the grass.
this city was never going to grow
because people were always so upset
about days with rain.
three weeks in
i caught myself wondering.
wondering if:
if the color of the lilac i left was
as purple as a healing bruise?
if i climbed their tower blocks
could i see the other side?
if the time were to stop
would that still be called eternity?
then a lifeless object rang
and reminded me
to get back to my new life.
the imagine of the budded trees
slowly erased from my mind.
i know this poem is bulit in a weird way, but i liked the first lines i wrote and said i should continue it all this way.
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