so much time has gone by
yet still i'm stuck,
in my own rearview
looking back
at you
when you
have moved past the point of no return
with no regrets, and no favors to return
i ask,
is there any point to pointing out wrongs that can't be made right?
still, i write
to what hope?
the falling rain supplies my ink,
but i fear every letter may still fall in vain
regrets that remain have begun to sink,
beneath my surface-
the pain from your voice stains my heart
a song that draws my eyes
to a drawing of your eyes
a memory
a piece of art
to leave at peace,
as a piece of what used to be-
in this gallery,
i'm stuck
standing as time goes by
About the Creator
JM
Personally, writing began as a creative outlet, to be a means of processing and venting emotion, but it has become so much more. Something I want not to be just relatable, enjoyable and a good read, but to reach someone who is in need.
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