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By Kevin Alan Lamb

Horizontal lines they pattern

Directing obligations that seem to matter

Live and let live

Breathe and be happy to give

A shit, a second, a helping hand

So many wasted intentions

Efforts futile now to even mention

Will you wonder where the good times went?

Is that regret you feel for the time you spent?

Do you know yet, anything at all that is really yours?

In dreams I recall closing doors

Shut on the happiness that was once yours

Divided by vertical lines

Pictures painted a thousand times

Expecting a different finish

Disappointed every time

Left out of every rhyme

Every story, every picture

Can’t imagine how I’d miss her

If she was

If we were

Anything but these dividing lines

Fading, waiting for better times

Anything at all

Brace me from this fall

From grace- from space, from this forgotten face

Divided by a pattern I never could reproduce

What’s the use?

Roll the dice a million times

Yet still from the outside I look in

Condemned, defined- by these dividing lines.

Photo Credit to Eric Hampton

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