Saturday, March 11, 2017

Now I Know Why



Years, years, years
of the dreaded thread 
you left me hanging on

Now I know why

Why we hung on
through long nights
of the missing moon

The mud slung
so regularly and so much
on the walls 
it felt like home

You go underground
to finally crash
within yourself again

Now I know why

But does it make it better
does it make it easier
to choose whether
I want to go living
loving without 
the sun
the moon

in a world 
without summer
just for a glimpse
a brief replica
of spring
like the dingy, faded
figurines in my parents'
shadowbox?