Car door slams
Gate opens
Keys jingle
Breath stain on the door window
from my yellow, fluffy friend
rain barely drizzling
foreshadowing the day's intent
listen to music
do some homework
eat
fight
sleep
wake up at 3
write a poem
and feel a little weak.
Wake up the next day
drink your coffee
go
for time is just a number
and fate is yours alone.

I am happy.

Finally, happy.

But sometimes, when the wind blows in just right and you can smell that hint of clean before the storm,
Or on quiet nights alone when the house is still and I lie curled under my cool sheets waiting for sleep,

The memory of what you were to me creeps inside and grips my heart.

When I’m blanketed in silence and the slight pressure in my ears is enough,
Or when the telling of another’s grief leaves me feeling heavy, knotted and small,
and then I realize it’s because I know.
I know that we have matching pieces of dark in us, them and me, and they recognize each other.

I am happy.

But to live is longing both to never forget, and never remember. Because forgetting means that piece of your soul and that fragment of your life were never really important, and remembering is proving that it was important enough to break you.

Finally happy.

But sometimes, when my heart beats and I can hear the sound of my own breath, I’m haunted by everything we were, and will never be.

And I remind myself again to forget.

This little bag I hope will prove
To be not vainly made —
For, if you should a needle want
It will afford you aid.
And as we are about to part
T'will serve another end,
For when you look upon the Bag
You'll recollect your friend.

There’s a rumbling a-coming
And yet I build my dreams from glass;
I hope you’ll peer through to find my face
Through the fancy, frosted, crystalline patterns.
You blew sparks into me that became novas;
Now they fuel my beaming eyes in the melt.
Watch as sands of time are blown into fragile fantasies
And yesterday’s memories twist their colors
Into improbable dragons and stars of tomorrows.
Glimpse me through my new frail fortress.
Keep watch as I hang tiny galaxies in the rafters.
These walls are your windows.
Use them well,
For the rumbling’s a-coming,
And I might need a savior
Who knows my dreaming face.