Hope is an asphalt street
my bare feet walk upon.
Bright sunny days resemble
cold dark nights
my tears fall asleep to
when no one is watching
not even the moon.
The oath was meant to be
Something we said for life
And yet in spite of it
You waived your witches stick
And turned me into
An unemployed cleaner
without a paycheck.
Nowadays I walk around
Looking for that thing
Your apathy has turned me into
I am dead flowers now
Love thrown back in my face
Rejected forever
Because I couldn’t pay rent for you.
Deciding not to feed me
Seems to typify
Nine years of rejection
Happily ever after starves,
And dies, get repaved as
Asphalt hope
my bare feet walk upon.
Copyright © 2022 Charles Edward York
No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*