Gallery

so much time has gone by

yet still i'm stuck,

in my own rearview

looking back

at you

when you

have moved past the point of no return

with no regrets, and no favors to return

i ask,

is there any point to pointing out wrongs that can't be made right?

still, i write

to what hope?

the falling rain supplies my ink,

but i fear every letter may still fall in vain

regrets that remain have begun to sink,

beneath my surface-

the pain from your voice stains my heart

a song that draws my eyes

to a drawing of your eyes

a memory

a piece of art

to leave at peace,

as a piece of what used to be-

in this gallery,

i'm stuck

standing as time goes by