The Stains

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Stains of wishes are squashed
on the glass of the past.
The hues are many, overlapped,
turned to a sickly brown,
still translucent in the sun,
though all are still distinctive.
See, one is slightly blue,
and look close at it to see
a picture slightly distorted
of youth and gaiety perfected.
In the greenish one,
see Ouija board nights,
when I loved the unseen to death.
The little tangerine speck
tells an epic in such detail
of how I wept seeds of dreams
from my overexhausted eyes.

I know you don't see this,
as these transparent stains
are only magically restored
when my eyes gaze upon them,
but trust me, they are there.

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2 Comments
YDDYDDalmost 20 years ago
Memory bugs on the windshield of life

A nice read.

I only wonder about squashed "wishes".

The rest of the poem seems to be about memories, not wishes.

And are "stains" squashed, or just all that remains?

Would an opening like:

"Stains of memories squashed

are on the glass of the past."

Sound any better?

TathagataTathagataalmost 20 years ago
very nice

and i like the color assignment.

: )

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