When will you let go?
Your love is like a thorny rose.
Love means letting go.

Mr. Bag Man,
Let go of your rucksack.

There’s only one carryon the bus will let you carry on,
Those bags will only slow you down,
My hand is here to pull you out,
Of the hurts from the past that haunt you.

Bag man,
You’ll hurt your back like that,
Dragging all those bags behind you.

Pack light.

They’ll only get in your way,
And make moving harder for you.

Mr. Bag man,
All you need is you.

Let me guide you to,
The new place designed for you.

Those bags will crowd you space.
Let go of them at a pace that works for you.

Mr. Bag Man,
Let go of those bags,
You’ll miss your bus like that.

If you can’t hurry up,
She’ll leave you at this stop,
with your stuff,
And you can’t miss this bus,
Another won’t wait for you.

It’ll be hard.
The past can hurt too much,
But let her love guide you.

Mr. Bag Man,
Let it go,
All you need is you,
And her love,
In this new place she’ll take you.

Your love is strange
Cold like winter's darkest nights,
Hot like summer days

Two hearts patiently in waiting,
One retires from its long time staying,
The other breaks from mourning.

Just love me for the differences.
No matter what the difference is,
In times of rain,
Or times of pain,
No matter what the issue is.

Love me like a kid loves cake,
Or clouds love rain,
Or how biggie loves T bone steak, cheese, eggs and Welch’s grapes,

Love me like Martin loves Gina,
How Polo G love Piano in his beats
Be so real,
Be the truth,

Love me like candy rain
And let me be so into you.
Let me be your Brown Sugar,
And you be my baby boo.
Like Love Jones,
Poetic Justice,
Let me be the Mj to,
Your Peter Parker

Love me through the multiverse,
or every timeline in the universe

Love me correctly,
Love me gently,
Love through the beauty and the struggle,

Like Corinthians 13:4-7
With kindness, patience.
Trusting and never failing.

Love me through the ugly and the pretty.
On my worst days when things seem dreary.
Love me even when things get complicated,
In times when it’s easier to stream PND and get kinda faded.
When struggle consumes love and we’re just irritated.
Despite it all let our love stay unshaken.

Just love me through the differences.
No matter what the difference is,
Because love is an art that’ll never reach perfection.
The imperfections of affection is what makes it authentic,
So just love me like this poem,
Hard hitting and genuine.

I remember,
Slight glances and simply smiles,
Nods, waves and dapping the hallways.
Do you remember?

I remember,
Thinking time wasn’t on my side,
Or it was the right person wrong time when,
You said you had no manners, then introduced yourself with “hi’
When you asked for my name,
Then my number and zodiac sign
That day in the summer rain

I remember
Cuts and slices before practice,
Your hoodie
And game day,
Sitting on crowded bleachers,
Hearing missed parlays and the crowd cheering your name,

I remember,
Half truths and broken promises,
Just friends
And lost sentiments
Added lies to your body of closets,
With the weapons hidden under your bed,

I remember,
When we were oui,
And sweet memories turned bittersweet,
As I dumped Polaroids of you me,
And immaturity
Paragraphs of “I’m sorries”
With not a trace of sincerity.

I remember
Do you remember?
Or is your memory just a delusion of a picture painted to perfection
Where all flaws are non-existent,
And whatever this was,  isn’t best left as dead.

He came and left just  
as fast as seasons change,
In 2 years and 4 days,
There’s no way the hole of what’s left of us can ever be refilled
It’s something better left as dead.

With the way it ended, in time, it can mend, but,
There’s so little and so much left unsaid and unsalvaged, left for the dust,
Leaving Time as the beast to consume the remnants left of us

Our Simple hi’s
And slight glances,
Big smiles and small laughs,
Pictures best left archived and buried in boxes for memory,
Letters that’ll stay with the sender,
poetry that's better left in the vault,
And numbers that are best as blocked.

Thoughts of when we were oui
And dark cheeks turned pink through turn of phrase,
Initials in the palms of the hands that held hearts

Soured by the immaturity, and insecurities,
Lies and outside secrets.
Bodies best left in closets, knives better hidden under beds
And thoughts of what could’ve been,
And why did things end the way it did,
And maybe, we really were better off as friends,
Lies to each other that it’s just right but the wrong time,
If we try again, this time will be right…

But I think it's best for both of us,
That whatever this is,
Is best left as dead.