Neither a nurturer
Wasn’t a warrior
Giant, silent chaos-creator
Left the City for the farm
The countdown’s begun
The one that’s always amber-orange and silhouetted, multiple masts
Sailing slowly but deliberately to anywhere but here
Help me because I can’t think
What, with all the noise in my head, contemplating your silence
Your confident cowardice
What do you call it
I want to hitch a ride to anywhere but here
Treasure?
No — what do you call it?
If you’d meant to change
Boundaries are most real
Pedigreed, you chose, not me — then you began again
The poor girl of your youth
Together nevermore, old friend — how urban lights pollute
I’m sure you supposed
These darkened months spent
Photo: Wright Home and Studio;
The Yellow from the City I liked its light, so I defended it I favored itI started to starve Courageous, I asked for respect We stay silent now, Yellow and I I was warned But I still believe the best
Not the double barrel shotgun you placed against my heart
I’ve outgrown your cowardice
But the boy you killed, I’ll live with daily
The boy upon the hill calling me
All these decades, still
My ego now in overdrive
She wanted what I’d promised us
Instead I killed her, once back then
Her ghost grieves to this very day
What do you call that Far East Asian ancient sailboat?
Just this one more line
Cat and mouse throughout my dreams
Love and coward-worn
I was warned of the Yellow
Nothing’s fitting
When I wronged her months ago
LisaRosier.com 