A Boy With Roses

Changing Times

My pessimistic mind is a cloud, not ready to come back down. I feel good where I am, illuminated in the streets between the factories where I used to wander when I was seventeen. I see fireworks of a notable celebration exploding over my head in the black night sky. I give way for the rush of cars, the shuffle of the cards, in love with the old architecture. I leave the night bleeding in my shadow. I move with the changing times, leaving behind unimportant material obsessions. I caught fire, holding him close to me as he cried, releasing years of hardship, barely able to speak through the tears. He told me how he feels unloved, and I reassured him I care, almost wanting him to hold me close, wanting him to never let me go. I became the cinders of city whispers, metaphysical tattoos. Lost in my thoughts. I walk along old roads, where I grew up in a broken home in a rundown town. Now it's a museum I visit, I go back there and cry.

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 7th, 2021 20:57
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views:
  • Users favorite of this poem: jarcher54, dusk arising.

Comments2

  • jarcher54

    There is little as moving as revisiting scenes of one's less happy past. You are somehow free of it yet still embroiled in the pain. A sensational account of both the physical journey and the journey of the soul. Love the unexpected use of "I caught fire." Yes you did. And you made this old soul cry too, right there with you.

    • A Boy With Roses

      sometimes I feel like I don't really cherish the present before it slips away for good, and when time passes I'm left longing for what is now those bittersweet moments, realising I'm slowly growing up, and the memories can be vague, and I feel connected to the past, detached from now, weirdly nostalgic for happier times, even those darker and cloudy moments when I don't exactly feel myself, or those times when I'm not sure about anything and everything temporarily comes to a halt, and I combust from the wallowing. Don't know where I was going with this because I've lost my train of thought, but thanks for reading.

    • dusk arising

      To me this speaks of a deep wound of love ungiven when it was needed the most.
      Very easy for me to relate to having left home for life on big city streets at just fifteen. You brought back many memories and thoughts.
      I read this several times and it's really well constructed.
      I'm inspired to write something similar one day when I revisit old haunts.
      A must for my favourites

      • A Boy With Roses

        pretty accurate analysis. thank you for reading!!



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