Magazine smiles — so picture-perfect of the shots I took.
An article of doubts. Extra, extra! call me Mr. Headline,
marked by a straight thought on my head — another hairline,
now that’s a headline.

Just another deadline when the ruler’s been cut short.
Forty days and forty nights — life moves so fast,
you’d have to fast just to slow down.

For finding love is like the stack of books I’m yet to read —
reading into feelings, some in capital, some that demand
capital. Because anything worthwhile asks for worth,
but even toxic traits can taste sweet for the moment’s notice.

Notice moments, shorter than a shorthanded text.
Swipe left for something next. Crossing out the past —
and I realize I’ve got another ex.

But I'm a gentle boy, sweet-natured, charming in every respect;
but respectively, I don’t feel like that man yet. Still learning what
it means to be a man. Man, it’s been —
the aphid on the apple’s skin, close enough to being the apple
of my eye. Eye out the apple you want to bite — but once you take
a piece, a piece of it sticks to your tongue.

Confounding expression — life’s a series of lessons in lowercase
and uppercase; in drafts, revisions, and red marks.
Some smiles are cropped for print, but the real story always
bleeds past the margins; and there’s only a small margin
for error in this one life.

The wisdom I have gained
Can fill many lovers' cups
With experience and lessons
With loss and sorrow
Pour my knowledge into them
How to love and how to talk
To listen and to feel
To never lose or yield
To hold what is precious
The wisdom I have now
Flows like a faucet
Where every lover shall
Never know the thirst
For one's touch
For one's kiss
To share a glass with another
To drink each other's love
Yet for all that insight
My own cup
Can never be filled again

there was nowhere
in particular
that i had to be
or any real reason
for me to be
where i'd ended up
i had been wandering
most of the day
seeing the sights
but mostly trying
to see the city
in its truest

and so found myself
amidst the bustle
of little market stalls
lining either side
of the path leading
to the centre of
a neighbourhood park
i had wanted a coffee
and was ready to
continue my march
towards a flat-white
but urged myself
to rest my feet
to pause for awhile
and enjoy the theatre
of these unconnected lives
unwittingly intertwined;

the young couple
bartering at a stall
while the elderly pair
laughed in pantomime
as the girl passed by
struggling to control
her overexcited pup
sat there watching
i too had a role
playing a part
in their lives
that i would
never know

You will meet
people
in life who
love to keep score.
"I've done this for you, so
you should do that for me."
They keep a mental ledger.
They're pathetic.
Nothing is ever done out of
the goodness of their heart.
Their mind clicks with
records and accounts.
They are slaves to the
almighty penny.
Nothing you do will
ever
count anyway.
You're always in
the red.

So long, life seemed splendid & youth, held such a succulent scent;those mémoires survived the ages still - so on to say & stay beyondthe horizon of wisdom.

Regrets & remorse, as in the epitome of a living today, suffice sucha saddened sight of disbelief upon chapters which ceased toexist...along an algorithm, alleging a passé presumably a Passover- the moulding chapters of maturity & bringing about a change...acollapsed change

The light...this light of childhood happiness, faded so fast &frequently, a belief of betterment arose from frequencies of falsefantasies & fake freedom. Entity erased entirely, doom destroyedwhoever wrote destiny & nothingness built one hell of a void; whatwent wrong?!? Only living such a specific stage of existence once,once to yearn for a relapse of singular sacrificial returns to the oldways - devising delusions of detrimental eras where, Kings & Knights knew & prophesied all together like a miraculous Mage. Isthis how it's supposed to be? Has such a childhood crossed thefinish line already or, did we reach the end of the trail? Too many questions unanswered by these ambitions, ambitions whichexceeded our worth...

So long, before that end, hope retrieved what seemed splendid &youthful, as young as tonight's nature - a sky full of stars, with amoon...well...a moon to guide us home

~ A. Rose

But yet—
what do I do
when at night,
in my lowest moments,
I still think of you?

And sometimes,
even on my darkest days,
I still think
of what I would say.

And the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
of a hot summer day—
it makes me think of nothing
but the memories.

I think of how
we weren’t meant to be.

And it’s weird,
’cause I feel like
when I think of love,
I only think of lessons.

But this time?
It wasn’t a bad one
I had to learn.

I learned
that we came
into each other’s lives
before we were ready—
and just maybe,
our foundation
wasn’t steady.

And just when
I start to forget again,
the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
that pulls me
right
back…

It reminds me
of the girl
who loved
before she knew how.

She felt as though
she loved too quiet
while you loved too loud.

And when it ended,
yes—it hurt.

But not because
somebody broke her,
but because
they both held on
too tight.

And sometimes I think of how
two souls held on too tight,
because two hearts wanted it,
but just couldn’t get it right.

We tried.
God knows—we tried.

But we were two people
whose love wasn’t enough.

So we left—
not out of hatred,
but because staying
would’ve ruined the memories
of those hot summer days.