A, always absencent and afraid
D, in such distaste;
A, for anger- absoloute
& M, cuz mans a ****** Waste:

Is this a written name?
Of this friend or potential lover
How he Reels this unique pain,
Too bad he wont discover:
That I'm the one whos truth's attentive
Not the one with words incentive-
Take ownership, & be repentive
Your minds absolutely unretentive.

I don't believe that you have this gift
To heal and unlock a Better version
of whoever you think you are-
What you've been given, you must shift
Enjoying that fake xannax bar?

A lthough you hurt
D ont hurt me too
A lways iconsiderate-
M anipulated too.

✌️

He would always wear my ring- giving me his full attention;
he would lay there- with me,
he listened to the music.
He listened to our songs.

And she carries my pouch, the one I made for her coins.
She carries my artwork- a piece of my mind, my imagination- one of which that even escapes my own memory-
I know she carried it,
Wherever she went.

And with a silent , namelless love, He uses my bookmark.
The one I made for him.
  I know, at every ending,
to every story-
It's there.  

A simple ring, a coin purse, a bookmark;
like the unity of a song we all listen to at once-
we're pushed together, bound by memory,
and immortalized in such fleeting feelings.
  
Isn't It Strange? That within these three mundane objects
I take solice.

If you were the sun I'd bask in your light and if you were the stars, I'd see them tonight.  If you were the rain I'd be driffted to sleep, in the same room from the memories only we keep. I'd be engulfed in your sound, listening id forget,
The pain, my reality and every regret