Smoked Traces
by Michael Romani

Slipped past like some kind of stranger
Living fast never out of constant danger
Chronic in your obscene defense
Unable to get past the pretense

Doubt leads to savage death
The time has come with second left
No longer able to ignore
The reaper comes tapping on the door

Sad problems of culpability
Where the parts might take some assembly
Slipping into that place of never
Where you smile and say that something clever

You'd said that something I'll never forget
That this was something that I'd never regret
But as we went down that list
Over-turning rocks for that something I missed

Smoked traces of incantations
Defy the gist of expectations
Challenges faced we can't refuse
The promises made only confuse

Indisposed toward an apology
It seems our lives get the best of you and me
Steadily waiting to cross the River Styx
In this candid admission of a pickled fix

(c) May  27, 2017  Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved