all that remorse
I left behind
in black nights
some still appear
in the gray
of dusk or dawn
but I’ll take
the life I have now
put me in a painting
its backdrop - a dark
forest path for the past
a brown wrinkled face
washed in golden sun
hazel eyes looking up
foot lifted mid-step
no I’m not that guy
I’m the bird he’s watching
missing some feathers
already airborne
that blur of blue
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