Move Along, Wayward Sentiment

These long, drawn out roads,
silence slinging time over its
shoulder like a trunk thrown
overboard a sinking ship.
We collect our debts and then
say they’re not ours to pay,
We pull teeth from the skulls
before burying a memory in
uncharted territory,
clawing at a surface to try
and dig up something dead,
stuck somewhere between
forgettable and irreplaceable.

The invitation was revoked,
so why am I still here?

– B.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s