Years Later
in the dream of last
night, your hair was dyed
darkest brown (when its
sandy brown was what
I knew) but I loved
you still. you looked
at (and through) me
with still-blue eyes
that spoke the chance
I lost once,
long before
I even
knew what
I had
missed
but
you reached
out arms
I could but
hope ached as
mine had ached
embracing fear
(that was my soul)
and holding peace
despite the truth
that I failed to see
(or I did see, but
would not believe): that
you changed your hair but
still did not love me.
Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2008
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