Confessional (Poetry)

15th April 2018
I have no one left to talk to
I only have this page
to sketch my maps of longing —
the borders of my rage

I’ve lost youth’s distant country
its sunken treasure lies
where pirate moonlight plunders
the space behind sad eyes

I’ve nothing left to dream on
except the faded past
its colours intermingle
the dyes too quickly cast

The shapes of hope long-shifted
away from snares of ink
I cannot find a meaning
no clues to what to think

And who would want to listen —
commiserate awhile ?
I trudge the mind’s dark margin
cross off another mile

The future has disowned me
and there’s no one left to tell
except this scrap of paper
perhaps it’s just as well