Inherently,
there are those memories that ****** away at our crinkled hearts.
Some pull & tug in the same way,
eyelids close
slowly and sleepily on Sunday mornings.
A few and a half dust-motes on memories are like paper cuts.
Short, sweet, stinging.
A handful are incredibly blurry, is it for the best?
Whether, my fingertips are trying to paint a lie white,
even, my mind is not too sure.
I keep living and breathing past tense.
I liked the way your lips turned downwards before that smile,
the roughness of your fingertips against mine.
Of course, it is all gone now.
You are gone now.
And I have not even forgiven myself
for
forgetting how it *f e l t.
Hello there lovely soul!
x
Good morning Sunshine/ Good Afternoon/ Good Night & Sweet dreams where-ever, you, you and you are!