We never really go
full circle.
We never really
come around.
The past is what it was,
we can’t be what we were;
all it ever does
is make us hurt.
You said you saw me on the street;
it had been a long time
since you’d said my name.
It must have been
one of my clear skin days,
if I was smiling and acting unafraid.
Not every day for me
turns out that way,
I’m glad that’s how you’ll remember me.
With the sun shining,
eyes alive and I
guess I’ve missed
the way you always looked at me.
Hung around a while
and hoped for change.
Got it wrong,
but I tried anyway.
You know they only make
it easier to stray,
but it caught up with me
after a six week stay.
On a sunny summer day,
I heard a whisper
and let it slip my veins.
I cried my eyes out on the floor,
I didn’t want it anymore,
but there were no more words to say.
So if you saw me on the street,
in full sunshine,
with a smile on my face,
it must have been one of my clear skin days;
there weren’t too many
when I was in that phase.
They grew fewer
as the band did play,
songs for every time my body failed me,
until I was just wasting away,
convalescing until the 5th of May.
Spring time always brought the best of me,
not sure if I survived,
not sure what’s left of me,
but they say every day’s a gift, you see,
the present and the future seem
like dreams I’ve lived vicariously
through child’s eyes again.
From here on out,
it’s all gonna be clear skin days.
I’ve washed the blood off of my hands.
Made a promise that when you see me again,
you won’t recognise my face.
I’m coming around,
but not to where I began,
just far enough to find my own way.
I’m coming around,
but not full circle again;
just far enough to find my myself a place.
HG – 2016
