on jagged angles,
dark skies split open,
and for a few fleeting moments,
light floats in the rain, making
a stunning backdrop for nights
of violence, for horror films
and
on the softest curves,
shades of gray blur,
and day becomes night,
flowing upwards from her face,
tears splash down with the rain,
simply perfect, for heartbreak
and
soaring past nothingness,
sunlight healed the scars once left
on an indigo sky, shocking ,
in its ability to produce smiles as
faces warm and host joy
but
as much as she wished
to change the past,
the day he disappeared, no light
seeped through the cracks, the
day he died, no clouds blocked
the sun
YOU ARE READING
Abditory
PoetryYou may only move forward once you let go of the past. I find that often, I bury my demons in my writing.
