Sunnydays
You never offered me your winter coat
since I had worn-out pockets of my own.
You said your apathetic goodbyes and good lucks.
Would have it been so hard to love me on your throne?
You traded my heart for intellect.
Now I can't feel the memories of that December noon.
When I was shivering, you were dismissing
the thought that we could have been in tune.
You walked me out away from the wooden castle
as the clock began to struck five.
Not once, did you look back to the path on the right
since left was one where you felt most alive.
The last time you saw me,
I was crying under the shade of the willow tree, left astray.
You looked far beyond the sky and I realized,
maybe suns don't come out on Sundays.
Copyright © Cynthia Chang | Year Posted 2018
|