The Fringe of Grey

I could cast myself in white

Pure and innocent

and he the man in black

who led me astray

But we both know

We live on the fringe of grey.

I could say I wore baby’s breath in my hair

that he tempted me

with the scent of a red rose

But we both know

The grass was green and damp

and the columbines were in bloom.

I could remember the white of the paper gown

0r the black typeface of the consent form

(the first I had ever signed myself)

(Do you remember being seventeen?)

But I remember most

the blood stain,

my own scarlet “A,”

and the grey brick building

protesters with black and white signs,

yelling about life

and death

(Perhaps you were one of them?)

I could claim that I cast rue and marigold

upon the earth

Rend my clothing in grief

I could swear that I simply forget

Let the day pass each year

without my heart skipping a beat

But we both know
The truth is grey

and it cuts, not cleanly, but with a dull knife

So sometimes I still wonder

What If?

And most times I’m glad

but sometimes I cry.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, Breaking the 4th Wall

and Poets United, Wonder Wednesday #9, Shades of Grey