Used To Be
There is nothing in this world I want.
I cannot sleep at night.
A graveyard of discarded dreams
revolves in my mind
like horses on a carousel;
paint worn to plaster,
yet they still spin
when the wind is strong enough.
I drive home to an empty house.
The sun rises while I listen
to a basketball bounce on the pavement,
dogs bark, doors slam,
the dim babble of a river in the distance,
and my own laughter,
as if my childhood self still exists
within the grass that grows
in the cracks of this sidewalk.
For a moment,
when I close my eyes, I am young again;
sitting atop a porcelain horse,
I ride towards the horizon.
But the merry-go-round never stops.
The street lamps reveal a derelict house,
my magnificent steed breaks to pieces,
and I sit in my car in the darkness.
Because it doesn't matter where I drive,
the only place I want to go
just gets further behind me.
Posted Apr 20, 2021, 3:10 PM UTC · edited
This was an emotional piece for me. The longing to return to a more simple and happy time in our lives is such a common human experience and you've done a beautiful job of painting a picture using dark and light imagery to convey the contrast of a longing nostalgia with the despair of living in a present moment where you don't want to be.
Thank you for sharing this.