What Was

When the sun beams through

the kitchen window

and I’m washing pots that aren’t mine

I reminisce times

that give me tingles.

There’s not a single moment

I could define

or emotion I could refine

but still I shiver

in the sublime rays that graze

my face

as I scrub and rub and lace

bubbles with haste

in the grace of knowing

it’s all over.

I never got those pinprick stars

over any laughs

when I went sober.

I’m bored if I am

but God please forbid boring.

I’m out lording over bodies outlawing 

explain I’m storing

throwbacks of my own

reckless touring –

gnawing gums turned open and yawning

but I wouldn’t give

back the world

I’ve spent years working

on making safe.

I place the plates in straight lines

the spoons, the forks, the trays

in pretty patterns

and it’s like I’ve taken ecstasy.

What was is now

mess to me. 

By Lyric Deep.

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