Wet Paint
I say I don’t care
Running fingers through my hair
Stopping in the corner to stare
Ignoring any sign to beware
No country for old men
No state for young love beginning again
No postage stamp for me to send
Nothing special except hoping to mend
Bruised soul, broken heart
Preparing myself for a new place to depart
Living again somewhere far apart
From an existence far beyond hopes of a start
Sorry to say, my emotions I must obey
Invigorated by a sense that resounds betray
Yet I lift my chin and face the sunny day
Waiting for the sorrow to pass away
Yes I must forge the words that I care
This is not the evidence of a dare
Not the account of the clothes I wear
Just heart pounding and mind glare
You were all that mattered
Forgotten footsteps of a baby’s patter
Lost promises of a love canvas’ torn tatter
As I watch the paint cry in a somber splatter
Copyright © Ryan Akers | Year Posted 2025
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