Fences fail quietly— in a slow tilt colors give way surrendering— a silent retreat from brown to brittle.
I press a finger catch the rough edge of metal its dust scratching my skin— years thin us like coins drowned in riverbeds.
It goes this way I think— a long fade grit slipping into dark water turning to mud just enough to remember we once held on.
And I wonder if we, too were made to loosen to dissolve— no shards or splinters just a long sigh— as time corrodes at our hearts turning all we were to rust.
I carved your name in the stars, but the dawn stole their light. I whispered your name to the moon, but it faded into the night. So I etched your name in my soul, where time cannot erase, A love so deep, eternal, in its quiet, sacred place.
Why do I cower behind this pen Ducking behind expression in the form of comfort No problems solved People less wronged Just words on a page And yet here I am Pen in hand