what’s left

Though violent colours turn to grey
There’s a slight bruise that won’t fade
A little hurt goes a long, long way
To carry the past into today

Knowing there would come an end
I stole some time to play pretend
I tended hopes among the bends
And bent way over to make amends

Abandoned schemes rise up at night
So I craft words to gain some might
And squeeze out moments of sour delight
To twist defeat into a rite

I search for traces of where I lay
And pondered ifs and cants and mays
Weeds grow over the path I made
Yet none can hide the lingering shame

Deserted dreams hung out to dry
Howl in my sleep demanding why
I sold them for a shallow sigh
And still refuse to set things right

But habit will erase the ache
And leave a longing in its wake
And each day I’ll bear its weight
Till something as pointless takes its place

Give me a pill so I won’t waste time
Imagining ifs nurtured with lies
I tell myself in the void of the night
Hope, stupid hope,
takes a lifetime to die


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