Forty-Nine

I woke to your words
from the night before,
painting the skyline in
hues of promises and
subtle dreams recanted,
where the truths were
ripe and the future still
seemed promising, as
your words turned into
shades of golden haze
with a gentle serenade
from the rising sun, as
I watched the truths I
had once known bleed
into shadows of the day
as yet another unknown.

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