The stranger sat distantly
right next to me.
Someone I thought I knew
intimately
but the face somehow
sits so differently.
It doesn’t fit the way
it did previously.
I try to speak
but choked tears
have dammed my throat.
I remember
the smiles in her eyes.
Now I only see knives out
ready to cut me down.
I walk the streets of this town,
the same ones every night
but now the light
falls differently.
It doesn’t fit the air
the way
it did previously.
I try to focus
but clogged tears
tug tightly
at my optic nerve
and I well up and cry.
I sit and sigh.
If I could drive
I’d escape
I’d find my own summer land
where the tears can
settle on the sand
and I can find the old me
buried in the ground below,
but the stranger still sits
somewhere in my mind.
The words she spoke
still grab tightly to my wrists
and twist on the scars
that still show under
the fading street light mist.
I’m better now
both in heart and mind
but when I’m down,
the words still crowd,
the pain still grinds me
back into the sandy ground.
My heart though
flies in different skies,
unknowing
that love is but a sunrise
and I’m sitting just before dawn,
the birdsong calling
to say love is coming.
Thanks for reading
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Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
