I think I really am dying
Where there was once a vibrancy,
In the first name that I wouldn’t remember anymore,
Winds that only whisper it still **** its flame,
And still, everything's the same,
Perhaps: something important collects dust in a drawer.

But I guess I was just in love with the day,
And by elimination, not the person.
I absolutely adored the rays of the sun,
the green leaves on the trees and tall grass by the path.
So I guess 1+1=0, according to the aftermath,
and taking one away from itself ends with none.

And that right there just might be how I passed the time,
By distracting myself from framing pictures with no captions.
Now I can clearly remember the day,
the now anonymous smiles and warm open skies,
The breezes long sought for, the figureless eyes,
Now all I'm capable of remembering is the day.

Forcefully ejected into space, those other memories
fly.
Of course, I still have them, but of course
I deny.
If I were so forgetful, my words would be
real,
For I can reject the details and the poison,
but I just can't reject how they made me
feel.

My mind is always running
Always filled
With all kinds of thoughts
Distractions
I try to focus
I try to lean in
My mind wanders off
Frustration sets in
During a time of intense worship
Where does my mind go?
Old memories
Poem ideas
Empty wishes
People I wish would talk to me more often
It’s annoying
It’s dumb
It makes me feel inferior
When I want to concentrate
But distractions take control

The book that never was


There is a book inside my head;
It feels as if it is one I have already read.
It’s trying to escape,
But I can’t write all the words that are so difficult to say;
There are not enough hours in the day.


I wish I could release them from my mind,
But they will remain trapped until I do what I must.
I hope one day I will be able to find the time,
But for now, you will just have to read my poetry about love.


I just can’t write it all down and remember what has happened;
I guess I’ll never finish it, because I have become distracted.
It has become the book that never was…
I hope you can do what you want to do;
I do what I can do, but it was fun while it lasted.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.