Late night without sleep
open a box of notes
find words that were hushed
long long time ago.
I could place them here
but why bother, you’re no longer here
busy floating on shiny clouds.
Unfolding a larger note
discovering it is an entire poem
written on a bitter cold December morn
with changes in every line
and I remember why.
Time and time again my old heart
has felt warmth and pain
been scribbled down on a blank page
and been tossed into a box to
become yesterdays.
Perhaps you’ve been around long enough
to read between the lines
or to feel me pouring out emotions
from tequila missing the worm
with my mind destroyed.
I believe in angels and demons
though life imposed both on me
and without fail at wrong times.
I’ll place this in a box of notes
and not remember it until some day
my memory reminds my heart
I wrote of life, my own part.
