Three days ago
it was Canada Day
Wait for the winter under Maple Leaf shade.
I'm alight with night time's
anaesthetized truths
soothe sweaty, shaking aches
until this
Independence Day
frees up my lungs.
Three days ago,
turned 29 years old.
Etched our initials in a park bench, rolled
my smudging thoughts into
photographed truth.
Our silver, halide smiles
on paper
live in drawers,
tie me to 25.
Our hearts aglow,
we rose
through dreams and aching,
chafing hopes.
True. Free. Young.
But the bombs burst that bubble
and red eyes glared
through anger and an aching, sorry chest.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
Three days ago
it was Canada Day
Wait for the winter under Maple Leaf shade.
I'm alight with night time's
anaesthetized truths
soothe sweaty, shaking aches
until this
Independence Day
frees up my lungs.
Three days ago,
turned 29 years old.
Etched our initials in a park bench, rolled
my smudging thoughts into
photographed truth.
Our silver, halide smiles
on paper
live in drawers,
tie me to 25.
Our hearts aglow,
we rose
through dreams and aching,
chafing hopes.
True. Free. Young.
But the bombs burst that bubble
and red eyes glared
through anger and an aching, sorry chest.
Request permission to use this poem