Rust On Window Pane

Like Rust
on a Window
pane
My dried blood
peels
from the
memory
of you

Bird dung
manifests
on the
crumpled
paper
that displays
the first
love poem
that I had
written
for you

At least
two generations
of dreams
and nightmares
have followed
us
since our
spirits
forever departed
Yet there is
still residue
within
the sheets
of time

Bad Memories
Good Memories
are now
just part
of the fixtures
that dwell
in the room
in which
we said good bye
and though
It has taken
me decades
to fully
understand
how that one choice
created many
choices
I am a better man
for them being
made