Margo

Her name was Margo.
No, wait-
Her name IS Margo.
She was the last of her kind
And a mastermind at whatever she did.
She was the girl I loved in the summer of my Junior year in
High School.
She was the one who woke me up
And led me through flower fields
In order to see for the first time
Which colours made up the ones
Of sunset
At five in the afternoon.
But of all the colors,
The ones in her eyes
Seemed the prettiest.

Without her, my life in comparison
Seemed dull and lifeless,
Like living among newspaper articles
About stock markets and gas prices.
She was the one who helped me to smell the scents
Of early morning.
But just like the few minutes of sunrise we shared,
One day,
She
Was
Gone.

Margo was my miracle. If I could ask for anything
It would be to bring Margo back. But I know too well
That she would not be content living the life of sorry me
With my silence and inability to
Speak feelings
When she herself is so good at reading the silent words
Of the divine.

 

 

 

 

Margo

Leave a Reply! Share a thought.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s