I'm not sure who was more dishonest.

Me: who pretended everything was okay because it had to be,
There was no other way;
Or You: who built the person you needed to be on
A foundation of snow.

When our time came it wasn't okay
And the snow had long since melted.

Me: who ran to fall apart and begin picking up pieces as best I could -
I'm not whole, but there are things I'm learning;
Or You: who crumbled to the world, clutching at redemption -
Your fear was always your best friend.

Of all the scattered fragments,
Was it enough to salvage our own?

Me: who gets through the day by day with steady paces and guilt;
**Or You:

It's funny what you remember about people
Their favorite colors,
their favorite songs,
what made them smile,
what made them laugh
the sweet things they said
what they got passionate about,
what they talked about at two in the morning
when no one else listened

It's funny how you remember how their hair fell in their face
and how their hoodie always hung
and the way they shuffle their feet when they walk,
and puff out their cheeks slightly in stress
how they got *******
the way they talk
the way they could be a mess

It's funny that you remember things about people
that don't seem to matter
but you love them,
and miss them
It's sad that you remember people, really.
It's sad that you can't forget
and oh so easily move on
it's sad that a lot of times you don't even want to

I write the words.
You decide their meaning.
The music is mine,
The lyrics are yours.

Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015

Don't leave me loving you
Here alone
***** my finger, at least,
and lull me to sleep
before you go.