a Poem by Raquel Swann
The Sun drifts under the horizon
daylight tires, relinquishing to night.
it’s the third full moon, at midnight
time bends its knees to a crawl,
crickets outside this lonely balcony
chirp songs of sadness
Was I wrong?
Were you wrong?
Do such things even matter any more?
In a passing memory I recall all the good
Never the bad.
do you still think of me?
Or has hatred erased the recordings?
am I a blemish on a long list of heartaches?
hidden messages on a box
to silence on a moonlit night.