I wrote of the youthful splendor of lying in the grass
blades hit with the tender touch of sunlight in between tiny villages residents going about their lives
a place I saw just as the math equation 2+2 and words in bold type across the chalkboard repeated spelled and defined
she told me no
as if because her memories did not contain my imaginings they then
weren’t
it takes a lifetime sometimes
longer or another run to stitch up again
to give for someone else the thing you most need for yourself
she didn’t know the harm she caused I know now I’ve done the same passed down the broken
promises