tabula rasa


there was a time
when all the colors on the palette
merged to black.
i painted you into every scene.

christmas with family and friends,
had you in a rockwell,
hung on the douglas fir.
your eyes were ornaments, onyx,
and glittering cruelty. each new year
i put you away in a box, instead of
smashing your memory.

pictures of tulip fest, yellow and cheery;
you stood tiny in the background,
presence, foreboding.
you froze the spring and dreams,
stupid as i am, i still waited for the thaw.

every perfect summer day,
you marred the image, a dark omen
and were the brown recluse that hid
in the fallen leaves, bit me, poisoned hope
for finding normal.

but tabula rasa, the slate is clean.
i'm letting the muse go this year.
you are no color, a empty nothing,
a white canvas.

now, i prefer poetry.

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