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Mori Aokigahara 2021-11-12 20:02:11 -06:00
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school-mandated poetry: day 8 / ballad
2018-01-13
***
waiting under a forever blue sky
watching as all the younger girls scream "bye"
I would say "wish you here here"
but there are no postcards for sale
a silver wire to soon be around my finger
and the impression of your face against the summer clouds still lingers
the ancient question begs, "are you mine?
or is this all a lie?"
only purple is a unit here
not pink, which has dissolved into the blue clear
due to a lack of interest- and my shorts are gray
but they don't have to be shorts- they can just be gray
so say hello to your new lover for me
because by the time I get home tomorrow, I'm sure I'll see
that my home is empty
and my room full of crumpled sheets
the wedding tonight has been cancelled
one of the brides has been locked up in the sickest cell
you have twelve hours to make up your mind
she loves me, she loves me not- no end in sight
so now I'm splayed out on the jaded grass lawn
the stars are so lucky- there's always someone out there to fawn
they say that outdoors, food tastes a hell of a lot better
but then why is my stomach churning like the far-off weather?
little did I know, hence two years
I would be shedding tears
but of joy or fear, I cannot tell
I'm not a fortune teller or horoscope writer; I'm not here to sell
why does the sky have to be blue?
why not gray to reflect a burgeoning city's soot
or green like all the other damn trees here
just more trees everywhere
trees
trees
and more trees
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander