From time to time
Isn't it strange to think that you were yourself, untouched before I knew you? Then we were inseparable. Now we sit inside ourselves, once again.Before I met you, you were clean shaven. On our first date you sported a moustache. It pricked my skin when you kissed me. I can still feel the burn on my neck. I don't know much about the rest of the person you were before I met you.And the person I knew doesn't exist anymore. I shrugged, pushing it down down down the lanes in my mind. Then it blasted open when I saw a picture of you on Christmas Day with a clean shaven face like the one you used to have before I met you.Because that's it isn't it?Life goes on.And we get mad when we don't go with it.
I went to a Tarot card reader last week.I got the death card first.She said I shouldn’t worry, that it doesn’t mean I am going to die, but that I already have.What now? I asked her.Everything was (un)done.Now you are turning sorrow, laughter, and pain into a new type of being. Of being? I asked her.Of living, she replied.Of existing? I asked her.Of growing, she replied.
I am a river:I am your mother's laugh at Thanksgiving dinnerI am the back of your lovers headI am your first wobbly steps to kindergarden I am the crumpled sheets of the poem you wish you said I am your heart, hardened I am your eyes full of starsI am your best freind's front door I am the old sweater you left in a stranger's carI am your soft spotsI am the ones, soreAnd it never stops, it never stops, it never