Pure, Blue Lights
Austin Cusberth
I think back to when my eyes glistened.
Never could a frown escape.
There was so much to smile for,
and a warmth that can never be replicated.
Delivered on time, every day, with no deviation.
No pain nor prejudice could find solace here,
where brotherhood began
and dealt cards sat dormant.
Kisses on the forehead, delightful as honeysuckles.
Even resentment had not yet bloomed
when artificial sweets gave way to undying bitters.
Now, a jaded scowl carves into a sober mind.
Euphoria no longer comes naturally
as the shroud of naïveté has lifted,
replaced by layers of smoke that fill rooms and
suffocate formerly unwavering feelings of yearning.
In the haze, it feels like I could reach out
and touch those memories once more.
But I know that is not true.
My eyes have long since glassed over.
We haven’t been kids for some time now.