Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Rivers Of Gold

I still reach for rivers of gold,

slivers of silver,

when I am half asleep,

but,

he is gone.

Blue eyes,

banished,

as I bandage myself with time,

and sleep,

pouring with pity,

blueberry sunset,

seeing the day we met,

and a tornado of time since,

how he destroyed my world,

putting it back together again,

how destructive we both were,

how I hurt myself,

by how I loved him.

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