The wind nips at my nose
And the inevitability of my demise
Gnaws at my brain.
The green field I stand in is littered
With patches of gray concretion
That protrude from the Earth.
I examine the flowers that lay on frozen soil.
I think the arrangements in front of the headstones
Speak to regret.
Every petal is an ¨I love you¨ unsung,
Or an apology that went unspoken.
I exit the steel cemetery gates
Hoping never to utter the phrase
¨I wish¨ Amid a funeral speech.
YOU ARE READING
Euphemism
Поэзия"I believe that maturity isn't dependent on age, But rather the severity of the trials the mind and heart have undergone." Growing up comes with so many challenges that can be uncomfortable and confusing. We're all thrown into the ocean and expec...
