Sordid Tale

If not for all the racing miles
Frantically put behind us
As though Death himself
Tickled our coat tails 

The whirlwind roster of activities 
Dinner...drinks 
A late night smoke on a rooftop patio 
Pretending the sky couldn't hear

Oh...how quickly new turns to old 
How soon habits and crutches 
Throw themselves into the illusion
Fracturing realities

Peeled back to reveal the original canvas 
Without pomp and circumstance 
The saddest picture ever painted uncovered
A story told so many times 

No longer worthy of its poetry

NH
2013 

Comments

Brian Miller said…
oh how true on the crutches and such slipping back in...routine taking over....break that cycle...so how did your big move go?
The Silver Fox said…
Hey, you're back! I mean... Are you?
hyperCRYPTICal said…
Oh so very good.
Anna :o]

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