Temporary
Poetry By A Wounded but Fighting SoulThe way the colors stay on the leaves of a tree in autumn
Your gaze, your eyes, how long after have I caught them
The mother coddling her toddler till they are a teen and grown
Like an illusion, as soon as your eyes adjust, it's alone
Is it true all good things must come to an end?
Is this just going to become a trend
How long will it be like this
How long will things feel amiss
How long does the season wait to change
Why does this feel so odd, so strange
Like going outside in winter till you tire
Only to return to indoors and cozy up by the fire
Is it a false hope, an inkling to the future carved only in pencil
is it drawn from a book, created by a stencil
If I look away will it fade, erased only a memory
As if i blink it will be in Jepordy
Is it waiting till I lose interest, or maybe find a new one
Is it hoping secretly for that so it can fade to oblivion
Should I understand and just go with the flow
for how it is now, at least until you go
Are you biding your time until I realize
that things aren't meant to be, it's all lies.
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