I look back on her years

memories which flicker

like overplayed videos on a worn out VCR;

I watch shapes come and I watch shapes go

seeing things play out

through a lens,


eyes that aren’t mine.


I feel emotions

like I hear music being played

doors away,

muffled, separate.


You took those years from me,

years that I should recall in vibrant, definite


not in the mess

a young child makes

experimenting with blues, reds, and greens

on a plywood palette.


You stole those moments from me.

Moments I should view from my own perspective,

not a stranger’s.


But I am here now,

and I am present.

And like grey fog can burn off to reveal a sunny day,

my own clouds have lifted;

I see again.




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