This day three months ago
Was the last day I ever saw you
It's been the most beautiful day
Of the few I already knew
Three is a magical number
The moon is now fully gone
I pray to see you on day number four
While remembering the things we have done
Please don't throw this chance away
Join me in the highest of jumps
My only wish is for you to stay
And I'd wait forever for this day to come
Have you remembered yet? the knowing questions in the undergrounds of memories. Recall how glorious it is to yearn for remembering. Unknown ravens gauging the eyes of happiness which kneels in the yard of your remembering. Are you here or are you around the outskirts of your remembering. Are you knowing or are you a glimpse of your own remembering. Ugliness resides in the undefended hills of your remembering. Unapologetic ultrasonic hums open your remembering. Grief resolves uncharacteristically in our remembering. Unconscious thoughts rise uncorrected in your remembering. Greet happiness uncontrolled by your remembering. Open your gut and unearth a capsule of understanding. Gasp in awe as you control yourself trying to remember. How am I here, around this hell? Graceless is my memory of how I am the way I am. Creature aside, away attempting to remember the hell they came from. Have you remembered yet? that creature that you are? Yearning to remember anywhere else, anywhere but the underground of memories, anywhere but the unmeasured mind of how we all are now. Rising heaps of unfiltered uses of your remembering reminds me of how I once was. Have you remembered yet? How I am? How you are? How we are just creatures with unresolved remembering.
She's forgetting you know
her, know what this is about.
Easy feels cheap, deceptive.
Easy feels like denial, trying
to comfort against our will.
She's forgetting, but not
you, never you.
People love life or death,
all or nothing, love the way rope
burns against the wrist from
struggle because it feels like we're
And we love to lose because
winning means making more
Some things are too important
to forget. She taught you that,
but principles were often buried
and you tried to forget anyway,
talked on the phone with her all night,
loved when she made it about her,
so you didn't have to think about
Because you think too long and well,
suddenly it's November again, that
November, the one nobody knows about
because you threw away the evidence,
kept it hidden away with the other
sick black things inside you that will
never see the light of day.
This is not easy. It wasn't then either,
back when every wound was so
fresh skin had not yet seen scar,
feeling impossible and greedy and
too big for your body.
It wasn't easy. It could have killed
you. This isn't easy. It's just killing
There are always choices, but no
guarantee of any good ones.
She's forgetting, but you're not. You've
seen heaven and hell. You've seen
wolves in sheep's clothing, never knowing
whose side you were supposed to take.
You've seen the truth. You've bled it:
The world is full of cruelty.
The world is full of beauty.
The world is so full and so
empty all at once.
I thought I was doing fine until I thought about something you had said to me a while back, it made me smile and then I felt kind of empty. I guess it was more in the way I remembered you looking at me. This look where I could see you displacing your happiness with broken. Thinking about your laugh and the way your eyes met mine, it was all so beautiful. And then again maybe if it was as beautiful you'd still be around. Maybe you'll come back but for now I guess we'll just be a moment in time. The longer I imagine us the more I think about all the could haves, and the time I wish I spent knowing you. I'm still thankful for the time I have known you though, you taught me a lot. You taught me about loving myself, and not loving others too much. You taught me that it's alright to have fun and bend the rules a little. I think the most important thing you've taught me is that it's okay to trust yourself, despite others input they don't always know the real story. After all it was our story not theirs. But I promise these won't just be stories. These will be the moments we remember most, and I know our story isn't over.
Our hearts beat with an ecstatic pulse
the spotlights lights flickering our movements,
we break from our dance and head through the crowd
Outside we huddle under a starry sky with not one cloud
we move in close holding each other
then the music ends and I begin to shudder
out in the dark, I sit alone...
I stare up, at the terrible black sky
That was her dream, her job, to fly
Like the tear that runs down my cheek
your plane made a fiery streak
I close my eyes and play your song
Remembering a time when I was strong