~rites of Lost Passage~
i)
It might have been funny
if pubescent glass hadn’t irritated.
You know how it rides below
metronome mono-symbolic sighs
like currents you can’t see,
sanding all the harshness.
ii)
I waited for maturity
to smooth you,
make you grasp at those memories
blown into childhood,
where fingers were made to share.
iii)
You couldn’t walk above simplicity
without growing weak,
asphyxiation just seemed logical
whenever promises were required
or broken,
and yet, I still revived you.
iv)
When my tongue faltered,
caught behind experience
all you could do
was meld to a yesterday
when I was opaque.
Copyright © Colin Marschall | Year Posted 2009
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