she tells me "come later."
her eyes, a gloomy hue of mahogany
look down to the ground
helpless
i smile
even though i know
the dirt she's hiding behind
such meek expression
maybe in Neverland
we could have been
happily in limbo
for generations to cheer
we could have bathed in our
youth; we need not worry
it would be she and i
and pixie dust
and a millions ways to fly
but we are grounded to this
law of physics and
logic and biology
and no matter what she does
she knows she can't hide
her dying eyes nor her
wrinkling face nor her
sagging cheeks nor her
violent coughs and
"come later," she may say
but a second glimpse two seconds after
may be enough to see
the needles she
depends on
with life
comes death
comes pain
comes depression
comes you
comes death
and they all live happily ever after...
YOU ARE READING
It (#Wattys2016)
Poetry| 1st Place for Summer Sun Awards (Beginner's Firsts) | | 2nd Place for the Pinpoint Awards | | Finalist for the 2016 Awards | It matters not what people think regarding things you believe strongly in. Perhaps, it may even help to even spread...
