Updated: Nov 3, 2018
The roads taste like Amber today
I know, because I peered into mother nature's kitchen cabinet to sneak a bite.
The sky was clear and paling,
The forests beyond the railing
Were far beyond my reach, so I came back home.
There's a growing stench in my lower cabinet,
That I was asked to take care of ages ago.
I chose not to, perhaps because it had started to feel familiar. I had started to feel comfortable.
I'm not familiar with comfort.
It doesn't sink in like music to my ears,
It's more like the irregular whirring of a ceiling fan,
Or nails screeching against a chalkboard,
I couldn't take it.
It was all I could hear and none that I could bear.
So when you took to the road, your shoulders broadening to devour the sunlight,
It left behind fiery embers of what could've been.
There isn't a day that goes by without pondering over the might haves.
Without painting the stars with a legacy I call our own
Without sculpting a giant golden bird with intricacies that would put Raphael to shame.
Without orchestrating a string quartet that plays atop the clouds
So that by the time your Metallica arpeggios reach me,
Norah Jones will be blasting from my radio,
As I drive down this Amber road
Spilled with our memories