MAROON ♤ POEMS I

chalk after winter

cracks in textured tar,
from the previous indigo season,
and oh so harsh the season was.

the chalk marks of hopscotch will eventually fade away,
along with the neon hues and hot pinks of childhood.

we were so clueless so innocent,
so excited for what was to come.

i should not have been.

for what i expected will never be.