Editor’s Note: This poem mournfully reflects upon relationships that have ceased to exist.
Days Gone
You’re plagued with nostalgia’s grotesque
Scraps, an alchemizing insurgent.
That banished inner voice
Barks propaganda dressed in velvet.
Dogma pollutes, preaching
“You’ll be together again.”
Rusty scattered nails, hammered
Without permission, in rotting
Myrtle wood. Every now and then
You hear so-and-so is up
To this, and that. Doing well.
Better than.
What should you expect?
Casting spells and chanting
Fails to countermand the gravity
That holds your feet fast.
It’s easier to submit, but man evolved,
Rebellious, to stand against.
Dejection fills empty driveways.
Simple truths are ignored
As decried memories.
Forget swallowing your dose –
Reality is a brick-sized suppository.
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