Why I Do Not Have To See You...

somehow our roads must
not meet
i prefer that they remain
to be so many distances
apart

there is no need
you are on your own
path of
bliss

there is no need for you
to confront me
about my own choice

i am dusty
and i have no story to tell
about sunshine

perhaps there is a tiny thing
and it will
be about the last rain
that fell
upon the arms of dead wood

there is nothing there
except the hollowness
the fibers that give you nothing
but meaningless lines

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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