I didn’t forget
I couldn’t get myself to.

I never started
I couldn’t bring myself to.

Sometimes I wish I could
Most times I couldn't help it

To try…? To try….?
I’ll have to change my heart.

It didn’t stop loving you,
How hard I worked at that!

I throw someone else at it,
It would not shift ground.

I’d lurch anyone its way; a choke hold,
Boomerang, It lands back at your corner;

Am beginning to think you took it with you
And left me a replica to tinker.

Your laughter still staggers round my ear
Your touch still makes my skin scale hurdles.

Like the path the sun trails everyday to the west
My heart settles on you in every way.

I didn’t do you any wrong
You wronged me neither.

I didn’t forget your kiss,
How could I, when it was shared.

I didn’t forget
How could I get myself to?

I opened my eyes
And I met your eyes
I met your eyes
And I found my heart
I found my heart
And I met myself
In myself
I met you.

(c) Lake Adedamola.

Poets do not
make a living;
they make a life.

I feared this would happen someday
It did today.
I saw you and froze.
No, I didn't see you,
My heart did.
The one you left like a disused ice rink
Hemmed in dejection and despair,
Collapsed it's roof and
Subject to the elements
The one that had only words too sweet
For your hollow heart to salivate on
It didn't die
Not a natural death.
So I feared you might rouse it again
But I cannot question what right you have to that, because
I never stopped loving you.

I was going to write some
Raw truth
Alas the backspace overpowered
And my ugly truth
That I fail to accept

was erased

It is a fun game
That this keyboard
This black ink on this temporary white screen
Can so easily disappear
Can so quickly be erased
Without a single trace of it

And I pity this page
My page
That can so easily be erased
By this electronic eraser
That clears my ugly truth
That I can never seem to...

And ****!

You will never know the words I was going to say
For they were just erased
And deleted
From this electronic white page
By my electronic eraser
That distorts my ugly truth
That....

****


It's like a magic trick
This thing
You'll never know my final stanza because
Of my contemplative fingers
That too easily erase.

**** **** ****
The writers' fingers go
They race
I can hear those backspace buttons ringing through the air
Of this dead, echoing night
Erasing their thoughts
Because of
hesitation
Doubt
Contemplation
The worry that they won't care
About that last line you were itching to write

Tell me
Do you hear them
Loud and clear
In the drumming air

****! ****! ****!

The writers' words
That will
Infinitely
Be
erased.

I still believe in love
But I don't believe love lasts
I still believe in promises
But I don't put any faith into them
I still believe that everyone has a soulmate
But I fear that there are too many people for me to find my own

I still believe in love
I believe it lasts if work is put in by both lovers
I still believe in promises
If they come from a place of genuine care and honesty
I still believe that everyone has a soul mate
And I hope mine is preparing for me

m.h.