discovered on my search today
how murakami and itoi
wrote short stories together
in nineteeneightysomething
and daydreamed of the corners
in tokyo i might never see
again all while amazed and longing
for someplace nifty to myself

often more times than not, i question if i have a knack for writing poems.
truth be told, i cannot discern the answer.
i attempt to make something roll off the tongue.
but, it's hard to do so when you don't know how to start.
so, a poet like me will have trials and tribulations that weigh heaviness on themselves.
it's the soul-crushing kind that feels similar to a heart aching.
because you want to be one of the best, but the reality is that you don't have the means to become better.

when relationships end
and come crumbling down
we always wonder, question
if it was as real for them
as it was for us
i do not have the answers
i cannot sit here
promising you that it was
but i do know this
you will one day
be with someone
that never makes you question
you will know without a doubt
they will love you
wholeheartedly
and that
that is real


c.w.

don’t dwell on the memories
you’ll never be able to create
appreciate all the memories
you did create
those are worth so much more
then what could have been

c.w.

I believe
sometimes
poetry
is a form
of
exorcism

i’ll forgive you
when you hurt me
because i like to think
i have endless
petals to pluck
and somehow still
remain grounded


c.w.