Like a fine mist dissolving on fingertips,
this moment slips.
Black crow drops his feast.
The irony, not lost on me.
At the pinnacle of sweetness-one fleeting moment,
barely shifting, then being thrown into the next image-
Staring down a 100 foot oncoming wave when the eyes don’t blink.
trippin’ on what I heard, polar opposites within one herd.
Grew up on the blues,
It’s how I learned about the ache.
Gave one last look at those times and said my goodbyes.
Now I take those darker hues and wrangle them into something more refined.
I make a lighter shade of blue.
I’m not revolving in a circle anymore.
I open new places and knock down doors.