Up is down. Right is left. Dreary colors. Dull tastes.
What should be isn’t. What is—not enough.
Each day a fading memory seeming farther off,
Draws toward the present, a time not how it should be.
This feeling of life missing a part,
Bigger than a single thing,
Someone to help. Someone to guide. Someone to understand.
But life moves on,
Confusing, dull life though it is.
A flash of color happening. A right that leads me so.
But just a breath and nothing more,
So wandering down the path I go.
Another flash gives taste to food,
This gives me a day worth remembering.
But again, it’s gone, and back I go to missing part of me.
The flashes come but never stay, and I return unto my gloom.
Calling back to the times I had with taste and color and cheer.
A time where all of me was there.
My time I spent with you.
On I press, the time with you but a thought,
It calls me back. It pushes me on.
For you were not best for me.
But for now, I stumble
I make my way in the dark.
Always searching for you.
To find you
The part of me you stole.
Copyright © Patrick Whitaker