Crystal blue waters,
warm
as the cocoon
of the blanket fort you hid under
when the world got loud.
Bruised skies,
Pinpricks on your skin,
Smoky sweetness
On your tongue,
from those wine-soaked nights,
and careless kisses.
Past memories,
of burnished places,
and sepia days.
Will they fill
the empty spaces
of nights spent
in the pale
silver landscape
Of cold winters
Alone
An endless
ceaseless present.
Driving,
Future untold.
Through melting grey highways,
In the rearview mirror
looking back.
Behind,
A crossroad.
On one side,
the road not taken
glistening.
On the other.
the random collision
of fate and chance
that has brought you here.
Will you see only what could,
Or will you drive on,
Resolute
With the certainty that what is
is better than what might have been?
Blabbaholics and Bookworms 