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Memory - Blog Posts
Loitering
Smoke curls from the ashen tip
of a long-lit cigarette on a moonless night
The streetlamp light arcs through the rain
tiny diamonds disappearing to dust
He breathes out death, lungs burning
one more light will make it okay,
further from the end, another hour
for the pain to fade a little.
Smoke disappears like the rain in the
navy air, and yet the cool ice of her eyes
is all the more vivid in his empty mind.
Has this been done yet ? I hope not.
people say to live in the moment as if I remember any other moments
Life is...
I paint with my pencil graphite on paper heart on display an image, a word evoke emotion but will never mean what it did to me when it occurred. Just a reminder a place holder in time a memory as art.
I am an artist.
I only have one piece. it has no price. it encompasses the entire gamut of emotion. The closer you get, the more you understand its meaning. it can not be recreated or duplicated. I am this piece.
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Theres a part of us thats no longer here,
and one that never was.
but when you feel it,
it makes you ache.
for better or for worse.
Fades each day,
yet never goes away.
The ability to forget...
has been forgotten.
My Hands, Your Lips, Our Eyes.
My hands, you use to say they were perfect.
That I had perfect hands.
I wonder if you even noticed them before you left.
I see my hands everyday, but I never really look at them.
At least I havnt in years. But… Im looking at them now.
Time is showing, the texture is changing.
Fine lines cover my knuckles.
There seems to be more wrinkles where they bend.
They say you can tell someones age by their hands.
I wonder if it’s a fair representation.
I wonder if what my hands where to you, is what your lips are to me.
Soft, pink, plump, warm, delicate, perfect.
I wonder if Id recognize them. If in fact I were to ever see them again.
If we ever see each other again.
Our eyes looked so similar.
Like the same eyes on a different day.
They knew each other so well.
But I wonder if they would recognize each other now? Or later?
Somehow I don’t think so.
A change in shade, hue, fine lines, and wrinkles.
Lines of happiness and pain. Everything in between.
One just as indistinguishable as the other.
I wonder if itd be they cant, or wont want to recognize.
Or maybe theyd wish they had never forgotten.
Everything
The thing is, I remember everything. Every inch. Every curve. The curl of your lip. The way your nipple rises when I go for seconds. Each little skin tag and mole. The depth and deceptive tightness. The sounds you make when we move to a new speed, a new depth, and fresh helplessness. I remember what I see when you cross the room. I remember how you feel as I lay on you. I remember everything Clothes and time and distance do nothing to blur what I know. You think we are apart now and again. But we are not. Because I remember everything.