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Would the colours be pretty when they arrive?

Would they be vibrant and blissful?

Would they spread across the floor to be marveled at?

Or would they be spread across the floor to cause falls? 70 more words

there were consequences, and
there was residue;
1991 was more than our hearts–
It was a shroud, a relic
something to be compressed
and worn around my neck

I am not going to take the chance on letting it have the last word.

To my child self,
When and where did it all fade away?
No more joy…
No more laughter…
No more warmth…
Nevermore can it be called a family. 97 more words