It’s very quiet now
My sobbing has subsided to small gasps.
My face is wet and needs a drying but
I have no tissue and the air's
Too still and close to do the job.
It’s dark outside and even darker inside
Where the corner begs me to come huddle
And the blue screen mocks my efforts
To concoct a riddle that will save me.
I’ve tried every single thing I know
To find a way to change the past
But it remains immutable,
And I am locked inside
The Amber of regret
9/17/20

I have a quiet lake of answers
For your raging storm of questions.

I have a placid summer meadow
For your hectic pace of living.

I have a waterfall of caring
For the times you feel unloved.

I have a purple sunset
When your world is without beauty.

I am a fresh baked cookie
When your soul is starved for love.
                      ljm

I  had  to  delete  this  poem  because  the  algorithm  that controls posts won't  let  it  post  in  the  layout  I  designed  for  it.  I couldn't find  a  hack  to  get  around  it  puting  up  a  looong  string­ of  lines,  one directly  below  the  other.  The  way  it  appeared  was  o­ff-putting  and  I'm  not  surprised  no  one  read  it.   This  is  not  the  first  time  this  has  happened  to  a  shap­ed  write  
of  mine.  Yet  I see other  writes in all sorts of wonderful shapes.   What am  I  doing  wrong?

The light tail of the tail light leaves me blue in the dark hues
… when it carries away what I belong to…
Unfolding the tar-black sky of asphalt, the longest arm of missing you…
My body is now the distance between us, big and empty,
The bigger, the emptier, thinner than air…
As time piles up, my ladders turn into pointless meters
Measuring the ratio of nothing in everything