Not the many I have
For pain…
But dark and solemn
As hallways in autumn,
My griefs deepen
And haunt me.
So, where shall I begin—
A day silver
With maples
And wind?
Perhaps a lighter mood,
Will yet in time
Turn blue,
At the mere mention
Of you.
I can’t dispel
The mist
Let alone repair the rift
So I re-arrange
The lines
As one might
Adjust the blinds
The way I often do
To banish the gloom
Of you
You understand,
Love,
It’s not to make
Things right,
Only admit some light;
I know nothing
Will ever change
Regardless
Of what I say...
But I can’t face
The pain,
Of having hurt you
Again.
