there are some days that I cannot fathom
the anguish another individual must feel
to openly hurt the ones he loves for attention
when we sit here (cowards)
denying our own reality to make ourselves
feel better lying down next to strangers
fading away my heartbeat ceases
until i can comprehend something other than
mistakes painted in opposition to the universe
or how i miss your touch most days
feathering blushing hues fading fast
in the sunlight these are the days
i miss you most when the memories i hold dear
pigment themselves vivid in my pastel routine
my easel is no longer in a home
my art is no longer stagnant on a wall
it is
walking
(talking)
breathing
crying right in front of me
walking away from me
in the distance now
those days i do not understand us
or what we have become
i reflect on how seasons transition flawlessly
without any form of communication
other than knowing of the passage of time
and that right now is time for change
(it is time)