I am about as frustrated with this poem editor as I can be. I have tried everything to get all the lines the same size. I have NO idea what has gone on with this thing since I was last here. Sorry if it looks weird, not my fault.
Time was never your ally.
Not when hairs turned grey or bones twisted.
Not as winter smothered you in your sleep,
or the blackness in the closet moved.
It never coveted your spilled blood from the song spigot on the radio,
nor kept you from one more defiant step backward.
Time was the thief that wrenched the only tear you had left behind those isolated daggers, you
call eyes. The wait to expel, to long.
He tried a stand beside you despite the singeing spit- fire cover you wear like gold.
Even shiny presents or cloaks of sparkle cannot retrieve that which you have wasted.