Mottled Yellow - Part Two

With the dust blown away, we find creases where there wasn't before

A flutter of a hope blows past the empty door,
An effortless wind plays across my features.
A wing of light, broken and whole,
Breaks through the clouds, warmth remembered.

A wisp of memories lingers in my mind,
Like waking dreams, I fail to remember, fail to forget.
The door is now shut, blown closed by the past,
Effort of recollection leaving me blind.

Nagging, pointless, all forgotten,
Shards of nothing stabbing my history.
Crackled lids of age awaken,
Revealing my eyes to the world I don’t know.

This sand, from the year glass, lines my sight,
Dusted away, I’m confronted with Yellow.
Illness wells within, like a pool of writhing maggots,
I flow into the bathroom, no longer lost within.

The tiles are as cold as ice induced death,
I tread lightly through such demise.
Tides of regret, waves of misery, now found,
My eyes, no longer what they once were.

Years line my face. Decades; cutting deeper,
I confront my lonely mirror, above the lonely sink.
Dust fills my eyes, where tears should have wept,
Loss fills my heart, where hope could have slept.