i knew two warriors,
one who breathed
and one who didn't.
And then he didn't.

Maybe this is a poem
and maybe it isn't.

When you're rude its as if you grab my arm
When you argue its as if you shove me away
When you cuss at me its as if you punch n beat me
When I cut its as if I apologize
When I drink its as if you accept me
When I die its as if I make you happy

Renovate yourself.
Whether it is once a year or twice a month:
Become new.
Roll up in your bedsheets and feel the chrysalis change you.

Don't stay the same.
No, don't you dare.
If you stop moving the darkness will catch up
Destroying your dreams,
Your love,
Your hope.
Everything that kept you steady.

Renovate yourself.
Whether it is once a year or twice a month:
Choose change
Before it chooses you.

remember the time
we, together, cried
it was winter
as i recall
i remember the chill
still feel the cold
it remains
along with the frigid tears
frozen in time
our hands
numb
if only the pain could mimic
the snow came down
like the falling sound
of our footsteps
on the icy ground
running
together
we shared one pair of gloves
we shared
a pair of souls

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

Your skin is tight,
Your eyes are bright,
And yet
You loose your teeth at night.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You don't walk
With a cane,
Wear a diaper,
Or leave a stain;
Usually you
Recall my name.
But then you have
Some nose hair
Like late September grain.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You don't wear knee-highs
In Bermuda shorts,
Your moles are hairless,
You hide your warts,
Yet you don't play
Outside sports.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

Your hair's not blue,
Your ears are hairless;
There's things about you
That seem ageless.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You swagger like an actor
On a curtain call;
It's hard to gauge
The age you wear
Since your overhaul.

I don't know the half of it,
But you don't look your age.

Forgetting is ******
The killing of memories
Please don't forget the little things
They mean so much to me.

-D.D.

Why do I still write about the pain of the blade when it hasn't kissed my hips for months
Why do I still write about you when you have not kissed my lips for even longer

I have not forgotten you
For you have given me
Each blessed memory

I have not forgotten you
For I hold your hand
Each step I stand

I have not forgotten you
For you have taught me well
Each lesson I spell

I have not forgotten you
For in truth you are rare
Each thought I have spare