The things you need to know are irrelevant
Like autumn; an in between from my heart to my Hell
The things are complicated yet simple
My soul spelled out like a storybook
With colorful pages and easy words
The things I never told you are singing
Like a melody with heart-breaking words
While sopranos hit high C’s and altos provide the harmony
It’s beautiful, the pain is a painting
My best work sprawled out on a white canvas
The brush is your words, the paint is my feelings
The things you want to know have dispersed
Blew away in the wind like my sorrow and my worry
With a storm from the east, my regrets lie in the west
The things I never said are silent
Like the first September night without the crickets
It is surprising like a pre-birthday gift with no ribbon and no card
The things you need to know have disappeared
Into a free verse poem that will go unread
Until you are just a memory.