You can't recycle wasted time
You can't fix mistakes
You can only make amends
Mistakes come with time
Mistakes come with love
You write your future
Mistakes rewrite your future
You can make amends over time
Mistakes will last
Time will not
Time is limited
But there are infinite possibilities on how you use it.

I drop the keys on the counter
and I am ready to tell you everything there ever was about me.

Things that flit through my mind so fast I only remember them
When my mind has nothing better to do
and still they are gone in an instant.

I can feel the muscles release in my body and as I lay here
With my mind numb from all the previous encounters I've had and I still only have one wish.

A wish I have desired ever since I was young and I think I will continue to do so when my bones are so old they are about to break
and that would be that I still wish there was a way to communicate a feeling through a feeling, without speaking a single word.

There are just some feelings you can't describe by words and some ways my brain can't form the sentences to tell you what I want to say.

Just wish you could feel this,
The exact way I feel it.

I'm here.
A fortress of pillows,
swimming in sheets.
Thinking of you
while it's raining.

You're there.
Eyes closed,
probably sound asleep.
Wishing you are seeing me,
in your nightly dreams.

Endless conversations,
never-ending memories.
I may have know you
only for a few weeks,
But I know you're mine to keep.

So take this chance
along beside me.
Let's make it worthwhile,
just hold my hand
and keep believing.

My writers mind is consumed in thoughts,
as the waining moon shines,
and wind blows at the 2Am hour.

Vessel is gripped with feelings of desertion
as if time stopped and I’m stuck in limbo.

What does a person do,
when loved ones are allusive
and care little about a sibling?
When sleeping seems unattainable?
And seeking out a friend is nonviable
since those dead asleep cannot hear.

And yet with pen in hand my only friends
seem to be the written word.
The phases that give serenity to a tired soul.

The wind howls trying to get inside mind,
as if knocking at my door-like ears.
As if it wants to come in, while hour turns to three
and street lamps still burn.

Yes the writers mind creates
when ****** into a cavern of words and darken halls.
It lingers under desk lamp that causes a haze in eyes
and a lightheaded frame.

Searching for reasons for a restless night
and solemn heartbeat continues,
as hand to pen is held tightly
and words flow like opened levee.

Phases swirl in mind before hitting page.
They mount with words of hurt from people doing me wrong.
They echo with power cutting open old wounds.

The blood of memories cover as if a blanket.
Now I understand why my sleep is unattainable.
Now its time to surrender and take a pill to sleep.
Just maybe later today the sun will bring some peace
and perhaps a friend to lend an ear.

StarBG © 2017