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
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.