Entry 92115 – Harsh light on the softest memory

I would run back

And turn on all the lights

And kiss your lips so hard they bled,

Hold your body so hard you bruised me

Release you only to return softer,

More certain, survivor of my desire.

If I hadn’t been so different from that,

We might’ve had a chance.

Now you have the world, alone:

Freedom from and for whatever you choose.

I continue on, a storyteller

Telling tales without names,

With faces so faint

And colors so bold

The past looks more like a palette than a portrait.

And I’ll be just fine without the bruises that would’ve healed

And the blood that would’ve dried

And the lives we could’ve lived

Because every choice leads us closer

To the core of truth we hold inside,

The mistakes and blessings

Are indistinguishable as sunset is from rising day

The point at which the colors break.

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