Spoils

A forgotten word
The distant past
Haunts my days
While faces haunt my nights

Where did all the good things go?
The happy places?
That utopia where everything was bright
Everything bloomed

Its standing right in front of me
But separated, as if hiding behind a veil
I miss these gardens.

I hope to find you again, hope.
Where you will no longer be a curse.
But a euphoria, where I can enjoy my time being
And not worry about what’s to come
Or what has already came.

I miss the spoils of being a boy
Younger, smiles more frequent.
Existing without the terrors of the world.
Of the word. The words.

For all the better-thans,
All the lesser beings.
Which am I?
I long to hear from a lovely mouth which is which.
The rose-lips, a pale face.

Its been a long time since I penned my heart.
My tragedies, my pieces.
Somehow, it already feels like a forgotten friend
Has found its way back to me.

All will be set right.