thoughts once so clear now flee en mass like small birds scattering in the wind... try to capture one and it fades to dust in my trembling hand my eyes teared up by the loss... what was her name... when was it I smiled like the sun bursting through the clouds on that day... where did I misplace that long-sought device... where have all my yesterdays gone... all escapes along the shifting winds of age small beautiful birds plumage so bright and beautiful to behold loves and laughter, days of wonder and joy crumble into dust as my forgetful fingers pry at their edges, trying to recall... her yesterday was my forever do you think she remembers me? ... as I slip into forgetfulness I hope that I will no longer remember to mourn my forgotten yesterdays... age is coming for me and iv forgotten how to tame that ugly beast
Someone's story just ended in a blank page No goodbyes or tears stain the margins An unfinished line hangs on chapter eight Haunting words will be this story's only friend "Hello" is forgotten where the ink bleeds "the end" And the book closed to never continue again.
My everything is your nothing My memory is your territory Do I miss the bliss Or do I miss what’s unfinished Hold me one last time So I can hold onto us forever This time . Half my bed is cold Half my heart is deserted Half my soul is split Tell me how I become whole I’ve dug I’ve laid Tell me how I don’t fit in this hole I’ve graved . Am I the monster Am I the hero Am I the reason The reason for you No I’m the reason Solitary Has company . I want a call I want a friend I want a new But I know I know the answer Is bitter more then sweet . I’m sorry I’m sorry I did this I didn’t want this
I’ve thought about that so many times before, An itch on my mind like a scratch on the floor. I’ve seen my face on other peoples memories, Boxed away in places just out of reach. It might be my life but it’s just a figure of speech.
A forgotten fallacy, framed through the ages and found in the back room of an old mans house, Dust blown, leather cracked and spine broken. Cracked open in two, bent over a knee and followed by the finger. Put the red ribbon down and let’s talk it over, Draw a pretty picture and imagine it again.
Where the wind whistles and the dogs howl like stars in the night. Piercing the black, thick tar in the sky. Running over clouds and dripping through my mind, thick like treacle but no half as sweet.