And I find myself walking backwards
To attempt at holding on to your memory...

Please don't go.

Please...

i keep thinking
about you
and loving
everyday of my life
i miss you

Poetry is like gusts of fresh air
Harbinger of the soul’s catharsis
Flowing emotions through the pen
Concealed pain written across the pages
Healing the pain which was long buried

a man rummages a trashcan for his supper
others stare at their plates
complaining the lack of ketchup

death is a silent guest
sitting round the table
waiting in turn

An open
ear
that can't
be seen
will hear
all the
truths that
lie beneath.

Tears have a strange comfort as appropriate response to the brokenness of this world.

take my kindness
and throw it
back in my face.

Go ahead;
walk all over
me and use
me as you may.

Go ahead...
do exactly
what everyone
else does-

I'll remember
*all of it