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remembered to the birth of time
held to nothing but the play of life

remembered to the warm of day cradled to the skin
no talk of living only laughter and joy
on the lip of adventure and discovery

remembered to the excitement of friendship
created to the star and hero on the sword of imagination
neath the flight of a dream

remembered to the glow of nurture
breathed to the skip and run of little feet on earths foothold
as the close of a hug to the beat of love
holds charge on the heat of a body not being
to that there you could be found by the hide of seek

remembered to the belt of a star to eve
as you make the first move on the kiss of sunlight
and touch soul to the flesh of sleeps fade
into the light of nights close

remembered to the rush of blood desire
thru the pound of a vein slipping its teeth
across the make of your naked pure

remembered to the sip of a body
thru the arc of a rainbows melt
as the ray of charge bursts open on the blister of sun
and drips to the earth of ground through the light of dust

remembered to the burn of life
held tight to the hunt of scent
gifting a rise on the black of slow heat
as the pelt of wolves prime escapes
to the prey on a red white snow

remembered to the last of kings and queens
answered to the truth of gravity
swept over the infinite mind on the lift of light
to the hand that one be hold
27.2020, Wilmington, North Carolina.
Standing still,
Sitting still,
PLOP said the sugar to my tea.
Sitting and standing,
Sit properly dear.
It’s quiet, peaceful,
Cheerful,
Loud,
Screaming,
Yelling …

5. 1998, Chester, England.
What are you yelling at me for?
You took it! I know you took it!
I didn’t take anything,
And if I did, where would I put it?
You know I’m only ever outside.
I can’t just jam a book into a tree you know
‘Lelliot!
Ugh! I told you not to call me that.
You’re my twin, I’m allowed to.
But you’re not allowed to take my books.
Elliot, I didn’t take your book.
I was playing outside.
We just had tea,
You were just inside.

Well, fine!
But I didn’t take your stupid book.
You always take my books.
Do not!
Do so!
Ugh, alright.
We are both old enough to fix this like gentle … peoples?
I’m five. You’re five … we’re five.
Right.
Okay, to your reading room!!

17. 2010, Anaheim, California.
Running and chasing and yelling,
Always more yelling,
Particularly at me.
He was always a book lover.
Maybe I shouldn’t have hidden his books.
Okay, Shane. Where did you put it now?
I haven’t put anything anywhere.
Right, and here I thought we were too old …
Shhhh, I think I hear it
Crying out for you brother.
It’s saying, ‘help me Elliot,
Help me!’
Ugh, you are so ridiculous!
Fine, I’ll go read another book.

Have you finished any of them?
NO! You keep hiding them.

20. 2013, UCI, California.
I brought it to you,
Your favorite book ‘Lelliot.
I’ll read it to you.
Even though I don’t know if you can hear me:
“Don’t let appearances fool you …”
I hear pinging and beeping.
I hate it.

21. 2014, Midway Park, North Carolina.
I’m not going.
I hate this.
It hurts …
It hurts.
You have to go.
No, I don’t.
You do.
Elliot would want you to.

He’d want me to …

21. 2014, Chester, England.
He’d want me to.
I’m here and I hate this.
Now I have to give them back to you –
All of your books.
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table,
Anne of Green Gables,
The Hobbit,
The Road,
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,

The book with all of Poe’s works,
Moby ****,
The Rule of Four,
A Thousand Splendid Suns,
1Q84 …

There are so many.
I’m sorry I hid them all.
They’re a comfort to me now.  
Let me read them to you.

27. 2020, Wilmington, North Carolina.
I remember:
I was drinking tea,
Gently mixing in the sugar,
Getting up and sitting back down,
Grabbing more tea,
Putting the kettle back on the stove,
Sit still dear,
Right, I’m sorry.
I put down my teacup
Pick up the book sitting quietly on the table.
This was his favorite.
Different pieces of my memory, scattered but always coming back to the moment I remember them. I hope you enjoy
© Shane Leigh
Reminiscing memories with your velvety touch.
Beyond the words our story dwells,
Red rosy lips parting a sigh of love,
The bouquet of life now seems to debauch.
Norman Crane Sep 8
Now I extract with tweezers from my flesh
the silver splinters of our common past,
unoxidized sharp memories still fresh,
which left would fester like a question asked
but never answered. Isn't it absurd
how we wound each other with joyous shards
of love's black shrapnel: how passion burns,
yet in remembering turns to gangrene ash?
flamingogirl Sep 8
The worst feeling
is remembering
how much I love you
five years later;
and not having
you by my side.
levi eden r Aug 22
it's about remembering.
you were my first love after all.

the after school bus, middle school,
that's where we met.
you eighth grade, me sixth.
you apologized for your friend because he bumped into me,
the rest is history.

high school we meet again, after school bus.
i see you look at me through the bus drivers mirror,
i try not to look too, the rest is history.
but we talk again,
closer than before,
older than before.

exchanging numbers, good morning and good night texts, birthday presents, confiding in each other about the past and the current day, late night walks.
oh, the late night walks.

side my side through our dark neighborhood and through the trail, underneath the streetlight.
your hand on my shoulder, the other pointing to the sky trying to get me to see the constellations,
i was looking at you the entire time.

oh, my first love how you've taught me what love really feels like.
Mahwish Z Aug 13
Look up,
aren't we blessed
to witness the starry pattern ..
it echoes across
my thoughts
my writings
in
my
head ..
filling up this void
in its quite solitude..

let me be drunk
overflowing with starry, mid-night
magical night ..
who cares what goes around
the world !!
While,
I witness the marvels
my heart
my soul
in
my
dreams ..

I find you in the loneliness
of these words
amidst
dreaming
of starry nights ..
all over me !!

in a colourful
yet subtle silence.
Nilia Loh Jul 24
it's about 10pm.
I kept checking the messages,
hoping you'll maybe reply me.

the music wasn’t loud enough,
my drawings aren’t detailed enough,
people aren’t texting me enough,
I’m not busy enough.

i need to drown myself in things to do,
so you will fade from my mind.
I need to forget you,
like how you’ve  forgotten me.
Mein Leben ohne dich ist so viel besser

Aber mein Lieber, ich habe deine
Liebesbriefe noch einmal gelesen
Es ist so ein kurzes Gedicht, aber es hat so viel Bedeutung und ist gleichzeitig traurig
H A Vitatoe Jul 10
I held onto
the memories
that made me cry.
That made me enrage
That even
made me
hateful inside.
As I moved on.
To another memory.
I burned any good
that you made with me.
Up in flames.
Is where
the good ones went.
I forgot to hold on
to the ones that .
At one time.
I wish I had not
resent.
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