What a legacy you’ve left
with your vile contempt for
the feelings of those you are
supposed to love and share
your life, loves and trials with.
Not even the years of being
away and dwelling cold in your
hibernation can easily restore the
destruction you have wrought like
a mad artist of yesterday unable to
control the passion that swells inside.
You want so much but memory is
not your friend, for it lives and moves
as fresh as the times of acid rain
that you poured into so many eyes.
Can we forgive?
But then there was never a sorry
on which to build the foundation of
another day, so these yesterdays come
between us as a dilapidated bridge that we
are not willing to cross, now or ever.