I see the death of orange, and red, and yellow
I feel the softness below my snickers-clad feet giving way to
Baredness and scarcity
That make me feel sickly cold with the greyness of the sky
The final feast passed without me attending
I just forgot.

I can’t relate to gorging food and drinks inside,
To small talk on random topics, and to smiles,
When fire is dying outside,
When colour is getting buried in sobriety
And spiky nakedness
That prick my eyes

Oh, a feast no one would tell me about
Maybe they invited me, but I didn’t listen…
I forgot
to remember.

(c) 2016 MK

Author: soul mary

Writer, poet and reader