Walking Away
by beighartman
I used to know certainty
But certainty is neither knowing nor certain.
Piles and piles of stark red
Lumps and liquid abject in every sense of the word
But the blank-eyed stare on.
Every word a best seller.
Every page a Pulitzer.
Every print a controversy.
Sometimes I wondered how they
Could keep looking at the cost and still say no eventually.
Their encounter was fleeting.
Such is the way
You’ll understand when you’re older
An old man peering over the masses
The matter is closed
A broken glass
The scars leave a lasting impression
It was an ephemeral childhood
The earth undulated
You could tell by her eyes
Their certain encounter was certainly fleeting.
But most of all
It was we who believed in you.
The sky shifted to shadows
And we’ve forgotten
Forging the red to tar.
