Rain falls like my expectations,
black crow in the clearing waits
to feed on hope
that dare raise its head;
all the coloured birds are gone
and another day slips out reach
just as yesterday met its end.
We never talk about the silence,
the uninvited distance,
the clinging pain that taunts me to
“learn how to forget”;
bitter nicotine leaves my cold split lips
as I stand alone
staring at the stars
outnumbered only by the tears I shed.
© D. Archer. January 2013