Wallace Park

Your mentality
has corroded over time,
there are secrets
you whisper at night when
strumming your old, electric
guitar.

I know about the songs you wrote-

I wrote the closing
lines,
you have no idea
where it came from;
thirty years later.

Keep playing after midnight
about the dean demons
that chase you, I refuse to be stuck in the middle
of a dark and lonely night.

"Nazareth- Love Hurts plays in the background"

as you slowly slip away from this poem
like forgotten words,
just lonely, little words
dropping within a puddle
at Wallace Park, where my pure
heart is buried.