they drink to forget
i write to remember
those are always the first two things
people give up
Tag: Love
playoff game
we lost.
we were barely playing,
showed up late
cussed each other out
finished strong
too not show up when it mattered most;
it’s not all you
i know the ball could have been better
not perfect, just better
we were never perfect
just humans
showing up each game
playing for our lives
memory is a bloody river
chances are
you’ll forget;
the long nights
the honest hours
the weakness;
and remember our last fight.
knitted sweater
your warmth, was taken for granted
applied for a loan, yet you passed it.
or crash
the falling isn’t the worst part
it’s the moment right before
you land;
it’s here in a blink
while the other eye
is idle
already gone-
chances of a revival;
last night you came into my dream
last night you were a dream,
to bring a few words
chances of a revival:
the second coming
your rebirth is here.
awaken
looked out the window
the peep hole
nothing
a night in Santorini
just stay an extra night
will waive the fee
the loose change
free of charge round trip flight
on your love)
docile disguises
drifting in the clouds;
some days i’ll rest this pen,
like eyeballs on a pillow,
n’ let the words come
from writing on a wall
subconscious love
existing on an edge made of paper planes
flying(
wind resistance
i didn’t believe;
the wind would come
whisper in italics
just to follow the whispering scent-
to follow —
to follow —
to follow ——-
to let the wind carry you
without the worry
v1 passion v2
dream chasing;
not to be confused by having-
the purity of the air
is the difference between the chase,
the stamp of this art,
the corner carved on this medium
to last, to make a tiny smile – last.
the closer to the earth
the field is littered with bodies
looking for a scrap of metal
the same metal
ambition of bones
stealing a penny from lenny
never for the many
just to save a twenty
Saint's Muse 