by Scott Christopher Beebe
it’s been far too long
since I’ve seen the sun drift past
your wide-open eyes
matters for naught that
when we last spoke, you had said,
“Hate the way (I) play
this forever dream”
of which you’d never seemed a
part of its themed scheme
each night, we would lie
our heads – bowing down just to
die, even a while
each day would play the
same old shame – explain it all
away, just come to
roses exploding
for no reason other than
being the season
versatility
is not a destination
spot for you & me
one day two years from
now, I’ll think of how you’d died
yesterday – and scream
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing