Of Demarcation

A painting of uncertainty.
Shifting colors slowly drawn
into a never-ending alteration.
Unearned contempt and icy isolation.

Rumors flared, the truth was never shared;
nothing felt the way it used to feel.
Reality or just surreal...?
He couldn't really tell that anymore.

Shifting - all the sands of time were shifting.
What used to be rock solid slid
like quaking earth beneath his feet.
The summer heat was murderously high.

The worst of all his fears was drawing nigh,
and nothing that he said or did
could salvage what his actions had destroyed.
Love - it used to feel like love inside.

Life - a painting of uncertainty.
Shifting colors slowly drawn
into a never-ending alteration.
And worst of all, he must admit
that it was he that drew those lines
of demarcation...

? Michaelette ?

7/2/2002
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .