Sunday, March 31, 2019
Sakura Festival
I've been reading the words you left behind
again.
- - -
Cherry blossoms fall into my coffee
ironic, I know (it's okay if you don't see that),
while the pages of this journal weep
already faded ink upon ripped jeans and palms.
Sticky notes left on library tables
and kitchen counters, unattended,
haunt me the way orange juice once did.
Your ghost lingers here in community gardens
you've never trapesed (and likely never will) -
constellations have taken on your shape
and the universe whispers your name
(her breath is stained like bluebells,
just in case you were wondering).
- - -
I've been reading the words you left behind
again.
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
In Place of You
Your ring doesn't fit me anymore,
I tried yesterday when I
was getting ready to go grocery shopping -
I just wanted some hope.
But it wouldn't fit, it's so hard to believe
I knew you so long ago that it's already
two sizes too small - at least.
Incredible, isn't it?
Instead of wearing it with "meep"
facing out, I considered putting it
on a chain and wearing it always,
but I think that ruins it.
So now here I am with it in my pocket,
heading out to for work and I keep
patting it with my bruised wrist -
just to make sure it's here
in your place.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
What a Timeless Theif
Time is a thief
it really can kill you,
but there's no time for grief
with so much to do.
Time does actually fly
not only when you're having fun,
cause what if you're shy,
and you just can't wait for the day to be done.
Time is not the reason you're late
it doesn't hate or love;
it's just part of your inevitable fate,
and you can't fight with those above.
Time is not a very good friend
all it is, is an illusive idea to me,
it might even manage to be your end.
Though eventually time will set us free.
Time, what is time?
This is all I wish to know
before my life will be fine.
I'm sorry, if this seems a bit low...
Monday, March 25, 2019
Street Song Serenade
Being with you is like dancing on water
inside the darkened theatre of death
like playing the part of a college student
just trying to get through initiation
with some stupid frat or sorority
I know I don't belong in, but join anyway
just to shut my parents up again.
It's like playing with money in the middle
of the busy streets found in places like
London and New York, but of course you -
you wouldn't understand an analogy like that;
you've never been anywhere have you love?
'Cause you're just another caged songbird
singing for someone else's freedom
instead of your own cause that's what lovers do
when they're in love. But I have to say,
I love being with you - it's like dancing on water
and playing with money; watching strangers
turn their heads in awe and screaming
words they don't even agree with in some kind of
falsified disgust because that's what happens
in death's theatre and on the busy streets of
places way too big for their own good.
It's something so unique,
something completely different from everything else
I've ever known and I think it's time you knew that.
Sunday, March 24, 2019
Saturday, March 23, 2019
Thinking Out Loud Again
259 days left
that's all. Until
the one you promised me
the one you built up so well
just to tear down again -
fully aware it'd take me with it.
So I've decided that
I will treat myself
to a day filled with purples
and the smell of roses.
That way I never have to
remember what
dying feels like.
259 days. Left.
That's all.
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Sloth as Sin?
There's so much more to sloths
than laziness - otherwise
we'd have none to admire.
When I look at one, I think of
adaptation and persistance,
don't you? No, I guess not,
or you wouldn't be comparing
my "likeness" to theirs
in an effort to breed drama.
Oh, but don't worry, you
share the claws and lack
the knowledge of using them.
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Pleading Temporary Insanity
I'm sorry for the way I've been
I just haven't been trying to
save the lives of strangers
and remember the beauty of ghosts.
This week I've been setting goals
in an effort to better myself
for you, or someone like you.
Words buzz louder than usual
and all my pens are inkless -
don't get me on about paper.
I'm sorry for the way I've been
I'm just feeling sorry for myself
until I remember why I'm still moving.
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Thursday, March 7, 2019
Saturday, March 2, 2019
Adapting Thorns
What madness is this, that airports
and sea shores hold more love
and sincerity than wedding halls
and hospital walls have heard
more prayers than God himself!
In an age where young girls
follow the footsteps of roses
adapting thorns - while boys
learn it's okay to stomp on flowers
because beauty can't be
brilliant too, what are we becoming?
And don't get me started
on darkness creating longing
which leads to countless nights
of useless romance - hearts
asking to be broken and souls
throwing themselves from
thirteenth story windows
knowing they can't fly.
What kind of madness is this
that we've named Reality
because all our dreams were
buried alive on our tenth birthday.
Is there any point in
struggling to survive?
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