I've reheated the same
Cup of coffee five times
This evening

Trying to write something
For myself that accurately
Describes how I experience

Often I am flooded in the ordinary
By the emotion and the density
Of life itself, in all its majesty

And sometimes I am left
Devoid of sentiment
In moments deemed worthy

I get lost in thinking of
The way the future will
Tangle with the present

I find myself stopped in
A memory as well,
A reminder, a fragment of past

The present is a fleeting concept
A paradox, I think
A circle of thought

At what point
Does the future become the present?
And the present become the past?

The sun washes the sky red
And smiles sneak onto everyone's faces

The trees get coated in rainbow lights
And the sound of laughter won't stop

The skies turn grey
And throws snowballs at you-
Just like how you used to play,
back in your younger years.

The sound of overused carols,
The sound of singing choir,
The sound of happy families-
The sounds of Christmas.

Soon the ground has turned white,
And the fireplaces get lit
Smoke starts to puff out of chimneys,
And the chestnut starts roasting

The sky is now dark
And the wind has left me cold
Still, all these people
Are willing to share their hearts

there are two types of memories;
ones written with pencil
and ones written with pen

the nothing memories get written in pencil.
they eventually fade away,
get rubbed out with erasers,
get overwritten
or just simply forgotten.

then there are the important memories
written in various colored ink
they can't simply be rubbed out
and they can't just be forgotten

the pencil memories
don't matter to you so much,
if at all.

the pen memories,
hurt you when you think about them
or reminds you of the good days

they leave a scuff
a dent
a mark on your soul
and they remind you of what you live for.