archeologists brush dust away from bones,
like memories from empty homes.
here i sit among rubble and ruin,
amidst broken picture frames strewn.

this is the scene i remember the most.
my words are written, jagged,
in a notebook forgotten, ragged am i
as my eyes shine like broken glass.

my bones turn to rust, to dust.
i brush away my remains from this grave
of a home i no longer remember.
among portraits i am no longer a part of.

november comes around with its bells,
bellows loud that i am not welcome here.
it brings fallen petals of blood red rust.
i am stained with agony and painful lust.

for a time that does not forgive,
and as the cold sweeps in i know,
november is the time of sin, for me.
i was born in a time that does not forgive.

the picture frames will not let me back in.

i / am / absent / here

memories,
captured in a moment.
on a single paper,
remembering in the silent,
inks fade, doesn't last forever,
together we are broken,
but we can see it in this small paper,
these happiness and enjoyment.

There are two kinds of people in this world.
There are those of us, who will look at pictures of the past and feel awash with a glowing warmth, remember the perfection of those single moments.
And then there are others among us, others like you and I, who view photos much the same way, yet feel much less euphoric, because while we also take the moment to remember that perfection, we use the next millennia of moments to lament the passing of this perfection

A clear film cover stretches over the image
Cool, crisp, clear visuals
Lingering heart-wrenching memories
Preserved in sheer peace
Desperate crying and wishful thinking
You're trapped in your head

Back when,
My converse were brand new,
I had starry nights,
With you,
Back when,
Holding hands,
Wasn't taboo.
I long to go,
Back with you

You are a universe contained in a body
You are a theory
A thought
All you taught yourself
All you've written and said
That day you conquered your fear
The tear trickling off your chin
The skin and bone that held together
and yet the words that stayed with a friend
That picked them up off the floor in the end
You are a star in galaxy orbiting
A place inside my heart
The key to memories hidden from view
A hundred thousand moving pictures
The inspiration around a story
Your story begins
In a twinkle of smile that caught your fathers glance
The closeness of bodies that danced
wild and free
You are everything to me and more
and yet you think you are small
Stand tall my friend...

Shall I paint you a picture through words
Your heart the canvas, my pen the brush
Can you see the Buffalo herds
The wide fields and foliage lush

Trees full of scarlet ibis birds
Mangrove roots drinking water
A portrait made from so few words
Poetry my true alma mater

Watercolor verse stain the page
As landscapes take shape and form
This style of art all the rage
Where wanderlust is born