Aphelion
As the lights of the day bled into each other
a silence, like a shady veil, fell between us.
It was more like a worn-out pilgrim:
he came home to stay:
placing his muddy shoes on the doorway
for knowing no wayfarer ones remained.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I used to angelize you.
And you needed no enlightening for your still
kept sharpening your shiny blades.
Now I am at aphelion;
further from the breathing blaze than ever
yet still I am capable of coming clean:
to realize that your shadow only paled me.
Copyright © Diana Bosa | Year Posted 2019
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