emo poem of the week
She was very much alive this time last year
She was blond and alive, she had ideas plans and pictures
tonight they are all lain aside spilled out like a pencil box in
various directions
Left to you and I to pick up lay straight and sigh
Who are we when we reach when we sit next or dial a phone
waiting for her to pick up and say “hello” “What’s next” “Who?”
You could say we worked together spent an evening talking
about tourism, trade, hangover cures
She could put people in lines and offer up their best
given a choice…
What is there left to say about her other than
This time last year she was full of life and hope and kindness.
