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A Tradition
January 2, 2019
The hell bent memories
Are still sparkling clear.
Singular is what I've become
Due to hallowing thoughts
That placed a noose around my lovers neck
Which now has become
A tradition that started with his father
To leave your loved ones behind,
Suel.
If these images could run away,
Return to the shadows of the unknown,
Maybe my tears would dry
And I wouldn't feel so
Shattered
Split into thousands of
Disfigured pieces
In a period of fugue
Until he visits me in my dreams.
© Gary C., Pequannock, NJ
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