From West: Return West

Once again,

it’s just another night like all the other nights.

The sun bowed down and left some time ago,

and I feel different now.

In shadows we all can dwell in our new clothes,

with the darkness cloaking the choices that we want to make.

Dance in line and fall out of it,

only to laugh at the disorder.

These are times of smoke-filled rooms and crowded waste-bins.

Let the haze cloud the ties that hold you back from feeling something.

I am not ready to part with what I’ve made.

I am fearing the change of moving on

where new clothes come with new faces:

Masks designed against recognition; a mental complication.

Leave that home and finally wash out your carpet,

stained with memories of broken glass and loud noises of what we call ghosts.

Do the emotions leak out of the fabric or am I allowed to hold them?

I am not ready to part with what I’ve found.

I am fearing the change of moving away.

If I  alter once more,

shift and again become,

will I forget how one day I was happy?

Too many never know that they mattered so much.

We didn’t talk,

maybe hardly knew each other at all.

But that smile and that nod gave a certain something.

I’m not feeling right,

not right now.

This can’t be a last night.

( ❤ Mitch)