Though her hair was black she was not rotten
Though her hair was rainbow she was not magic
Though her hair was gone she was not
In turn, I was not
There was no reason to leave
Being without could not make me love any less
Though her hair was black she was not rotten
Though her hair was rainbow she was not magic
Though her hair was gone she was not
In turn, I was not
There was no reason to leave
Being without could not make me love any less
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You enter hearts unannounced, uninvited.
When I try to get you out you fly into the glass.
You never break it.
You push yourself against it, breathing, fogging.
I can’t even shew you out.
Do you want to leave?
Do you want to stay?
I won’t let this happen again.
I’ll keep you out.
I’ll swat you.
Doesn’t matter, you’ll get in again.
If not you
then another one like you will.
You know what they say?
When someone says your name
and you’re not around
they’re thinking of you.
Well,
I’ve been writing about you
for way too long.
You’ve been saying my name
way too much.
Please, move on.
Maybe soon
I’ll be able
to follow my own advice.
Sometimes I can’t have the words I want
They escape me
Perhaps purposely, they run away from the ink
I have to chase them down
Like I have to have the words
Then I rethink
Those thoughts aren’t poetic
I have read poems that I don’t understand
I know they mean something to someone
That in itself is poetic, in a way
Though, possibly they didn’t mean anything
And were only words placed together to confuse me
Not solely me
But possibly
Neighbors play the music loud
They don’t bother me
It is Sunday, a warm day, vehicles pass freely
Music blares down the street
Can’t recognize the song
All I hear is bass
Loud, converging, then cars are gone
I can’t sleep currently
I’ll have to wait a while
No complaining
When night comes
I’ll get some good sleep
Stray cats
can be
more vicious
than home trained dogs.
They have to be.
Stray dogs
often encounter
stray cats
but also often
leave them alone.
It is interesting
to observe a child
who has broken their toys
yet still
does not mind
sharing them with others,
as if somehow
sharing
will rebuild
what was broken.
We don’t speak the same language,
but we still connect.
Consider what we share.
I think I think the right amount
about this beautiful thing
of common ground,
on similar subjects
we both experience
in different countries.
Don’t we understand each other?
Shouldn’t we?
The writer
wants to be read
by people
who also read.
The writer
also
wants to
encourage
others
to read.
This is the goal.
Get more people
into reading.
Get more reading
into people.
Get into people reading.
Get into reading people.
When you’re through reading
you’ve met many people.
Young writer on thoughts
Old writer on notes
Neither seeing the light
Both wonder of the self, both scribbling into the night.
Questions and answers for future minds.
Forsake slumber for this,
this forever journey
into the self.
Looking for celebrities to follow
until they say something wrong,
until they say something long
winded.
Apologizes don’t help the offended.
Mended
levees and bridges,
then what?
Syndicated binges
to distract until next time.
See you next week,
same channel,
same place,
same couch,
same face.