paint it black played the night before you
slipped into shadow, not unexpected
it was a long struggle to get to that good night
I know you had to go to bring back what you are
you were not that lost thing left behind
I have been angry at you since you left
which makes me angry at me
because I know it isn't fair
you deserved to be set free from the prison
that your body had become
fly high unpolished angel
you were not elegant, but to me you were beautiful
~Cie~
Ain't gonna explain, so please don't ask
I love the bitter-sweetness that your poem portrays
ReplyDeleteThank you. :-)
DeleteI love the darkness and confusion in this. It's very real.
ReplyDeleteAll too, I'm afraid. I've lost several people to dementia in the past ten years. (My father was the first, he will be gone nine years at the end of this November.) It's rather like watching them die twice.
DeleteStill beautiful :)
ReplyDelete