Moesy

I look at the canvas that is my life Unexplored landscapes linger half-painted in the corners Timelines snake across like labyrinths I cannot try to navigate them I do not remember creating all these shapes Surely their twisted forms are not a reflection Of the angles I have cut from my own I did not know they lingered still, refusing to disappear These colors confuse and captivate me Their gradients are outside my ability to create I know, for in even my most accomplished combinations Despite struggles for splendor, they stand gray What divine hand guided this brush and its strokes? If I could mirror only a fraction of its abili

I see your face      You're still looking at me with those eyes Those paths we walked       We never grew tired or silent The words we spoke       Nothing yet everything at once Each memory a sharp reminder      Like the glass on the side of the road, beautiful and dangerous Those days are gone      Replacing the days we once remembered together And it is nothing more Than a hollow longing