Sadness is the seductive afterthought
she exchanges her hopes for
because time wrote of planned promises
then passed, leaving falsehoods
in the shape of her footprints

She questions all her faults
although she failed to see the fault in
believing thirty meant she’d be whole

Heartbreak is the sly muse
she uses until the bruises confuse
her and she feels at home inside those pains
Her love was once an ever flowing source
of abundant light and patient knowing

In truth, it remains a gift unopened
insignificant and unneeded
still, rarely she allows herself to cry
because the death of meaning went unheeded

for she is but an afterthought
with this life
waiting for her to pass by…

Carrie Gilbert 2016


2 responses to “Afterthought

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