My paper is running short
I’ve got time for a short one:

Once upon a time way back when I was ten
I had a dream, what a wonderful life
But I couldn’t wait, I got older quick
Learned to drive and how to kiss girls
Then one came along and stole my heart
put me in love for the rest of my life
We did it all, the house, the kids, the dogs
took it all in, that’s what we did
the good, the bad, love, pain and family
Now here we are, all to ourselves
right where our parents left off
looking back then and seeing it all
took our chances, we did some things
our time is now; we try to keep going
**** I wish I was ten


9/19/25

I collect tiny proofs - sea glass, a receipt with somebody else's handwriting, a cat's last breath in a photograph -
each one an accusation and a map.
I press my palm to the stove and memorize the heat - it is the closest thing to being seen.
I kiss someone in the hallway to check if flesh still answers, then wash my mouth with lemon scented dish soap.

I know my memories not the greatest, but I would have sworn you made me a promise....
it was in the beginning of August
you told me you loved me, you'd never forsake me
the vows made in the moonlight, now they break me
don't you remember?
weren't you there too?
maybe it's my imagination thinking you had loved me
but you hands were all over me
the passenger seat?
the Sunday's?
your parent's back yard?
all of our secrets thrown around
didn't you mean it?
or maybe I dreamed it....

A screen.
An act of bore
where routine dialogues are said for mere regret over discourse.
A set of characters dressed in their unusual appearances
and mock full costumes.
It's the same all over again.
It repeats,
repeats,
repeats until she repents.
I could only sit here and trace fingers over the glazed screen.
I've tapped,
slapped and
omitted all of joy i've got to get through it yet all in vain.
Her sound of laughter,
mixed with joy and excitement
she's feeling lingers still.
a hope for me to grieve.
The boy who she loved,
looked the same as he was 11 years ago.
For him,
memories came over rushing as the ocean rushes to gallop on shore but for her it was desertion of self.
She no longer remembers me,
the memory of her first love.
I wandered through her trenches,
found her secret yet
still i could not figure how she forgot the boy she called “mine”.
Particle by particle.
I began fading out.
He is reaching for her.
He is holding her hand.
I gasp if i could filled with life
but i turn to rust
and resign from life
as she slaps and shouts at him for the first time.

Crisp September breeze
Carries memories
From too many years past.
Feelings unprocessed,
Echoes of uncertainty.

Promises left unkept,
Dreams and hopes
Scattered to the four winds.
And wounds untended,
Deep, ugly, gnarled.

Something in the chill,
Hauled in on the wind,
Makes the hurt return
Like an old fracture
That aches before a storm.

I remember the way they used to hang their art so proudly with me. Messy crayon drawings of pure imagination. I saw them sneak popsicles from the freezer when no one was looking. I watched the plants on the windowsill grow, reaching for a sky on the other side of the pane. They cooked meals in that room and stained me with the flavor of bubbling tomato sauce, baked sourdough, and the gentle simmer of potpourri. There was magic sometimes, in the youthful grins over candles and the silent wishes they made. There were evenings of sharp, acidic vinegar and boiling eggs they dyed for Easter.  There were arguments: yelling, screaming and crying—the growing pains of a family. There was violence too, tempers flaring, heads butting, and holes in the walls like black holes swallowing the light. There was a garden through the windows that grew with them—wild yet cultivated. This house was filled with their problems, with their love, with their lives. But, eventually, it emptied of them. Slowly, like an ancient lake dried up by the sun, they learned how to change to move on. They spread out like clouds across the sky and put me in a box. Now, I can’t help but wonder from my resting place: where have they drifted to, and how have they had to change to keep going?

Buried within the heart's depth
Lie memories of the one who left
My beloved left me alone
To stare at the sky on my own

It's been ages since I saw you there
In the world outside
Or my inside
I looked for you everywhere

Dreams seen, opinions shared
Memories created, plans made
Some relations are impermanent
Like the colours of an old film fade.

Where once existed a garden,
Autumn resides my heart
Pain disguised as memories
They tear me apart

Whenever I think about you,
I loose the track of time
I feel as gloomy a poem
Without any rhyme .

My eyes flow like the sea
As I search for you
I wish I could see
My beloved beside me.

Kentucky cookie cutters are the best,
For cutting pieces out of your head.
Memories and distant pleas,
Erase with ease,
When you chop em out,
Using a Kentucky Cookie Cutter Thing.