There was a time,
I cried and cried,
Because I had a dream,
That my parents died,
So realistic it seemed,
And I thought,
How long would they live,
They won't be there all the time,
At one point I must leave them,
At one point I'll never see them,


For four years,
I have had these great friends,
But then suddenly a rolling tear,
They won't be there for long,
They will go their own way,
They will move on,
I feel this guilty pain,
In a few months I may,
Never see them again,
Just memories,
All the fun memories,
Oh the crazy memories,
The happy memories,
The struggle memories,
The jokes and chats,
The stories and back pats,
All those will be missed,



My parents have years to live on,
And those years,
I must make the most of it,
Play with them,
Laugh and joke,
Everyday just be there for them,
So when death parts them from me,
I will not regret it,
I will smile,
Behind the smiles all the memories,



In a few months,
My friends will go their separate ways,
Till then we have days,
And we play like crazy,
Spend as much time with them,
Joke & laugh like never before,
Do crazy stuff,
To be remembered by,
The nicknames,
The arguement,
The debates,
So when they leave for their future,
I will see them off with a smile,
Behind it every single joke and games,
Over the years,
The favours and mistakes,
The laughs and craze,
I will not regret it,

I don't want to leave anyone I've met,
Within my heart,
With regret.

Tell me, if loving you is healthy
Been holding my tongue full of worries

Nature's shades can be yellow, blue, or green
Please show me things I have never seen

I'm only asking for dominance, full of desire
You had your chance, I can now call you a liar

My hands cannot stop from writing you different poems
Afterall, I still wonder, will you read all of them?

All of these try-outs is a waste of time
It's all unworthy, was it because I'm out of time?

'Could see your sins and they are relentless
I know you're skilled, though I still think you're perfect

The options I've been dealt are done foolishly
These silly reasons are lowkey plain stupidity

So tell me, if loving you is healthy
You can tell me the answer to stop and finish it with an advisory

Paul was very tall
and now I have his skull
but
that’s not what this poem is about at all

Relax it’s a replica
given to me as they were cleaning out the office of a surgeon
did it really belong to someone?
Paul is that you?
He wears my glasses as I write
at times I’ll glance at him to the left of the laptop screen
pretend he’s watching
interested in what it is I am writing “Care you hear about this line?”
I’ll ask. No reply. He keeps to himself, or is simply ignoring me.
Deep cavities stare out, jealous of the mug or can,
more often than not containing caffeine, some sort of personal buzz,
the elixir for the page,
Hemingway’s tactics aren’t for everyone,
is there anyone famous for tea yet?

Paul has perfect front teeth, on the top at least,
he’s missing a couple on the bottom
along with one of his molars. What happened Paul?
Did you not brush enough?
A sweet tooth is a hard habit to break, it needs to be quenched,
much like the helpless need to fill the page day after day.
Classical music always plays during the sessions,
Paul likes piano almost as much as alliteration.
If he still had his hands I imagine
he’d have a million views by now,
just as many likes,
but still working a job outside of his passion to pay the rent,
much like everyone else. He’d come home from work everyday,
around five or so, sit at the piano, one given to him by his grandmother,
left to him in her will,
he wouldn’t get up from the leather covered bench
for hours, to him in the moment those hours feel like seconds,
from that bench he’d create masterpieces, rhapsody in every color,
the type of music people listen to while creating other forms of art,

the background to the inside of their minds.
There’s a replica of a brain inside of Paul’s skull.
It can be removed and taken apart, you can see where Paul kept his memories,
his passions, his regrets.
Being only a replica it’s clear, made of rubber, it’s all there though,
everything that made Paul Paul.

Walking down memory lane
I come upon miles of shattered pieces,
t’was your heart,
my wrong doings.
I continued walking
upon the detritus
of what was once was,
that are now fragments
sharp glimpse
of hurt
of betrayal
caustic; perforating.
but lo, I continued walking
walking down memory lane
knowing I deserve the pain.