Amber Road

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.



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

Yet again

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