JeHaMa
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You seem to have misplaced me;
I am on this endeavor alone.
And I miss your ocean colored eyes and how the belonged with the
sunset in mine.
It echoes, my head, with things you can no
longer seem to say.
It is now that I understand
that I have underestimated the angst
towards complacency.
Complacency is being finished.
Uninterested.
The lack of fear.
I have fallen into a pattern of
ticking and tock-ing
for those who simply miss the measurement of time.
My mouth is stained red, but my
mind is enveloped in tones of blue, no longer
