My friendships Turn to dust As another date I said offhand, I failed to commit To memory.
Trauma of the past Has left remnant seeds Of which I rely on As a survival instinct That has driven, Like roots, Uncontrollably through Every friendship I gain.
I forget the most basic Conversations and things I’ve said, But my past, Made black in defense Of my ability to move forward, Shows plainly That most of it I did not need; Files have been deleted, And only frames Of each have been contrived To make looking back easier to handle.
I often wish it was not this way, And find myself apologizing For a defense mechanism That has rooted in the very fabric Of every memory— Will they ever forgive me? Will I?— I hope they don’t see the blank Canvas that I see.
Will it ever be filled With anything other than The coffee stains That have been left From when I’ve decidedly Put off trying Not to forget?
Or will it be an everlasting White, that juxtaposes The darkness I see when I look back?—
I want to understand human purpose ; The doubtless impaired devotions that deviate from ‘The Human Idea’ There’s something ‘recovered’ that persists in each life yet in each life it is usually quashed habitually These purposes are mused from off of the makings of our lives and when applied can become true unearthed work a driven propulsion a ‘*******’ or offering to the ‘Creator Idea’ a truth of an individual view or at least some sort of an approximation.