No time for
another cold cliché.
I’m still here,
trading my yesterdays.
Used to be tomorrows,
but all that
has gone away.
My only currency,
currently,
is time and space.
Don’t think I’m coming home;
there’s too much pain
to set aside.
I’ll sit and watch the snow fall
on this dumpster fire
of my life.
Can’t stray away again,
last time I left,
a lover died.
Nothing but the best
for you,
nothing but regrets inside.
I’ll always love you.
Remember,
as December whiles away.
Another cold cliché.
I’m still here,
trading my yesterdays.
HG – 2019
