I will be something distant --
a child blowing out birthday candles
in the back of your mind,
all the pretty memories that surround the dark.
I will be your new silent home
of things you don't need
too many words on the wall
no food in the kitchen
and one day you'll wake up from
my ornate bed,
forsake the hands holding you back,
and drown yourself
in another dimension.
Here comes the Title poem, beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSomething distant, a memory of the past,
in vivid colours it was once,
now in sepia, is relived and revived,
whenever I close my eyes.