Seeping Like Smoke Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

If the silence calls, answer it.
Seeping like smoke
i
n
t
o
the veins.
Drained blood vessels
f
i
l
l
e
d
with chemicals.
The body is what it is.
A skin filled skeleton
motivated to carry on.
Even if the
s
o
u
l
asks to be released.

A little boy is playing in his backyard.
Plastic knights and make-believe castles.
His imagination flourishes, thrives;
magic empires he creates in his world.
He does not think about tomorrow.
He does not worry about anything.

I wish I was him again.
Start all over.

Not possible, however.
We can only
w
a
l
k
ahead,
never back.