Missed That Part

a short poem about growing up and growing old...

Missed that Part

The same ghosts haunt me as haunt you.
What could have been, but never blue.
Clap back, no longer rings as true.
What does that have to do with you?

Chased before with more futility.
Never snaps back to utility.
Memory’s unfazed humility.
But it doesn’t work musically.

Youthful smiles and glistening skinning.
As fake as a new beginning.
One that you are never winning.
How in the hell are you grinning?

Take all your fragile words and needs.
Remove the sinning, grow your weeds.
Let them loose and let them bleed.
Then try to find them as they feed.

Served on a plastic platter.
But how could the master matter?
Bad blood and good plans scatter.
There’s nothing to clean up after.

A bowl of soup sits in your pool.
It was so hot and now it’s cool.
And all you dare to do is drool.
As though that makes you less a fool.

The same ghosts haunt me as haunt you.
What could have been, but never blue.
Clap back, no longer rings as true.
What does that have to do with you?