Powdered Promises
a poem
“Just one last time,” I whisper—then pretend,
As though a promise guarantees an end;
I reach again for something sweet and brief,
A borrowed hour disguised to look like relief.
It gathers me beneath its velvet haze,
And hushes every hurt for several days;
For one small while, the noise inside grows still,
And I mistake that silence for free will.
The mirror keeps the truths I leave unsaid—
These weighted eyes, these mornings filled with dread;
My trembling hands betray the calm I feign,
While every vow comes circling back again.
“Just one last time”—the phrase I know by heart,
A little lie that always plays its part;
And if my mother asks, just tell her when—
I’m sorry, Mom. I broke my word again.
“Just one last time”—the phrase I know by heart,
A little lie that always plays its part;
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