Four Scores and (Eighty-) seven Whores Ago…

Cycling through all the memories I hold,
attempting to craft up a new ending,
I realize I have chapters left untold
to the stinging king–character: a fling.

Ooo, baby! Did you just hear that one ring?
Come on down off your bed-swaying high horse.
Hear my words, feel their essence, let it sting.
Of course, you digress to endorse your “source.”

And no remorse, for my truth you ignore,
or for my emotions you influence.
What does that make me? Lax foyer decor?
Unify like a stagnant confluence.

Once so innocent, you left me in ruins…
a thriving civilization no more.
Merciless and widespread executions,
right before you gently walk out the door

When do I accept something literally
instead of taking it figuratively?

And when will the delusion of you
fade back to the Blue?

Chaos in the Conifers

Preparation is only productive with a finish line

The clouds may be clearing, but the lake is still low
The grass that has grown back could use a mow…

Blue skies are present as much as you can see a shooting star behind the trees

Round two: I spot a plane!
Actually, I see two…

Could the night progress?
Should it progress?
I’m as fragile as a sheet of paper,
Please don’t tear me

I know what’s best for me
but I always feel an urge to fight it,
There’s an opposing energy within
Perhaps someone already ripped the parchment
Doesn’t matter now,
she wasn’t meant to be fancy
Bargain brand college-ruled FTW!

Why be mad at her?
What were the faults?
Was is merely a reflection
of my own desperation?

Both of us have stopped weeping
Will this evening turn around?
The clouds are hinting at “yellow”…
But they can’t make a sound.