He loved her and it was enough
though society devised many methods
to prove to him otherwise.
–
His world was yellow and brown
sometimes he looked over the fence
at the teeming pits of AstroTurf beyond
and thought a little green would be nice.
–
Years passed like a sentence,
next took precedence over now.
And my god how he waited
trying to connect, to tell the tales
chilling steadily within him
but never speaking, dealing
only in salts and butterscotch.
–
Night applies itself
to such sinister ends
when first we tame
ourselves to pretend.
–
The day that he joined “them”
was the last day that he lived
and even she grew distant
though she neither left
nor stopped loving him.
–
still trying to get my rhythm and schedule down
mindlovemisery 
I love this. It made me smile.
Thank you Laura!
This is excellent and very clearly written. If you worry about your poetry submissions being too abstract for publication, I would try submitting this one. There’s no one on the planet who couldn’t easily understand what you’re saying. And it’s so very relatable.
Thank you so much =) Picking poems to submit is always the tough bit and most magazines don’t want work previously published on a blog so I don’t have an audience to kind of help me figure it out
Lovely write, as usual. Happy New Year!
Thanks you too!
trying to connect, to tell the tales
chilling steadily within him
but never speaking, dealing
only in salts and butterscotch.
Wow! Love this image – painted so incredibly well in colour and taste!
A poetic prosaic (not in the wordy sense) or perhaps, as I like to suggest – prosetry – but not quite because this reads more poem than prose – but whatever we “name” it – great piece of story telling Yves 🙂
And …. take your time to find what works for you 🙂
Thank you so much Pat!