a part of something
I try to become a real part of,
I say 'hello' to a long
time companion,
a long time friend,
a former love,
I'd get a 'hey',
catch up a little bit
and soon enough,
like a room someone's
about to leave,
they'll turn off the lights
and what
would remain
inside
is either
a sleeping soul
or just
an empty room.

It takes a lot to move
a muscle,
a waste of energy,
time,
thoughts
that costs multiple
hours to get over
during
most nights,

and to use your
heart,
you'll have to
pick it up like an unfinished
book,
try to continue where
you left off
but it usually takes
where it began,
remembering
takes a lot as well.

It has
been so long.

I put mine on the floor,
stare at it for a while
and try to see some
good memories
from it,
then leave it
like a grave.

Someone may put
flowers on it
or
someone may
pour whisky on it,
someone may
move it elsewhere
and for sure
it ain't
going
to be
me.