And this is what it comes back to:
All the words, earnest in the face
Of all that had gone before,
Hollow in the light of the Sun
That was too bright, too near.

They haunt me as her face haunts me.
They float unexpectedly to
The surface of my mind, just in time
To sour a good day; to tarnish
A memory that some tragic part
Of me still believes could shine.

Once again, my mouth is full of marbles:
Such is my way when making muses
Of the unwilling. I complain of
How hard it is to move on when
All I do is move around;
Circling; orbiting; looking inward.

She is there in all the faces,
Reflected in every single eye that
Looks away from me, that fills
Its gaze with everything, anything else.

She won’t leave me alone, just as
I can’t leave her alone.

10/08/2015

Posted on 10/28/2015
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince