When Yesterday Turns

I found the box of drawings—

crumpled suns with crooked smiles,

clouds that never meant to cry.

The colors once bright, now faded,

smudged like promises I didn’t keep,

happy faces frozen

in the wrong kind of memory.

I forced the smile for the camera,

a mask heavy with years.

The sweetness sours here,

like a fruit left too long,

a story that twists

when you thought you knew the ending.