Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Bedstains

It's a sad state of affairs
It's a morbid set of circumstances
Like a stain on a bedsheet
Of a regretful, blurry encounter the night before
A night that maintained for years 
And the smell still lingers to this day.
Like trying to scrub the marks out of the delicate fabric
As trying to soothe the wounds on those who deserved them least.

Allergic to the memories
Like a swollen visage in the Summer
Recoiling at the sight of a Daisy
Whose petals unfurl to reveal a mangled mess
Blackened & tainted to the core
You disgust me.

Whichever path could have been carved in the road ahead
I do wonder which contained anything worth keeping
Something unburned and full of life
And if one could have ever existed
The thoughts serve as placeholders for the present
As we push on through the patches we'd rather forget
And pray for slim chances of another meeting in the distance
For another glimpse of that face could mean a cursed life
No matter the circumstance.

We push on towards the light
We bury the past in the dark
In their graveyards,
We leave fragile warnings for those behind us. 


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