What if sunsets were blue? What if
they resembled my recollections:
how I broke upon your hardness, how you
ran from my insensitive cutting
remarks, lasers which severed whatever
tied us together those few years? Would I
ever have experienced solar reds, oranges,
pink-tinged magic? Known this reality?
Turned from unreal shadows dancing on
Plato's cave wall, pushed into dwelling
among well-lit shadow-makers,
my memories hold
only blue shadows
watching blue sunsets.
when a memory plays you tricks
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Published by pilchbo
Reporter, editor, photographer. Eighth grade teacher of English and computers. Actor. Quality assurance professional for pharmaceutical manufacturing. And always a writer.
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all the voices in my head 