My first day of school
A backpack full of jitters;
My mother’s eyes
With that one last wave
At the door.
Is to tick boxes off the list.
The more, the merrier —
Then, the more sparse
Only a new beginning
Do we grow bolder
Writing more chapters —
Now we take time
When was the last time
Showered in waterfalls
Of the unknown
The pinnacle —
I would rather miss what was
Than what could have been.
The passing of time can sometime cloud memory
things of the past become not so clear as If
one starts to think things unreal and did they really happened and was this only In dreams
when awake and and think was all that went before just a dream I had just awoken
must be clouding my memory you start to lose the plot of what Is real and what Is not .
I'm just old man who growing even okder by the day and who Is afraid of completely losing his
I’m getting older
In an multitude of ways
I can look at my yesterday and see so many things I thought I would have never seen
I fell in love again when I thought I didn’t have anymore love in me
I’m getting older
Maybe he’ll still love me as much as I love him
Im getting older
when i was younger i begged time to go faster
i wanted to grow up right then and there
but now that i know the horrors of growing older
i wish i could've stayed young
...but the years are short. -unknown
Let the thing
We mean to be
Know the thing
We feel we are
A bounce hustling and
Getting older has never been
In my plans but it's never late
Enough for me to stay
Maybe if I could find pills that give me the same effect you do when you say “baby” I’d be okay.
you got your college acceptance letter today and I’m so proud, but the minute you sent me that photo my chest collapsed.
I just want you to be happy even though most of me knows you’d be happier else where, I grasp all the time I can get with you like it’s special tokens that will give me life.
I told your mother I loved you and she smiled, she told me she thought i was a good person and that I would be fine in the world; I think she knows you’re going to leave me soon.
my skin crawls, my veins shake, and my stomach flips when I think of the inevitable dust storm that comes every year, hiding my happiness in a blanket of opaque grey, leaving me coughing in the bathroom trying to catch my breath as I mutter through my broken sobs “you’re okay”
but I won’t be okay
because there isn’t anything like watching you live, getting a second older.
there isn’t anything like feeling you move your face from side to side so you can get deeper in my neck
there isn’t anything like touching your skin, or tasting your tongue, and I’m afraid I’ll never forget your name.
April 15th, 2015
what does being a hopeless romantic mean?
is it writing poems about people who don't exist?
is it wanting to be older and in love so bad, while just being fourteen?
is it wanting to feel a presence of love, standing in a summers mist?
is it imagining arms around you every night?
is it thinking of someone taking you on long drives?
because it seems like it just might
be a little while longer before we live those lives
wishing I could go back and time while dreaming of skipping forward.
When I was a young idealistic thinker
I took the bait hook line and sinker
now I’m an old more skeptical believer
but I hope I’m still an open receiver.
I think I've always had a fascination with the moon
and the sun.
It wasn't one of those things that was all of a sudden or joining the crowd.
It was simply not being shy with my admiration for the moon anymore.