- Vol. 08
- Chapter 12
Image by Nickhil Jain
“Missed”
Somewhere it's still here—
the me I used to be.
The carefree laughter
sundrenched with youth-
fulness; skin, flesh, dreams.
I used to be a shiny key
to promise, vast horizons
of opportunity unrolled to me,
offering red carpet futures
whichever I chose.
"Qual der Wahl"—torture of choice—
so I put off deciding,
basking and residing in my shining
days, confident they'd stay
open and inviting to my brilliant key.
But I was wrong.
Young sunlight faded, dulled,
my vast horizons
lost definition, shivered, shrank amorphously,
annulled by grey;
those rich red carpets, tattered by time,
fell into dust.
“Missed”
Somewhere it's still here—
the me I used to be.
But my key is patinaed and rusted,
abandoned, dangling on a wire,
nothing left
to unlock.