Tag Archives: Past

Backwards

The future holds in its hands, nothing.

In the copious time I’ve held my gaze at it

All I see is this white place,

A docile sheet of paper laying on a desk.

Sometimes there are lines draw across it

As if tempting me to fill them with words I do not have.

Maybe that’s why I keep looking backwards,

And no, not in a simple glance over my shoulder either.

My entire being faces the past and everything it encompasses.

In it I see the riches of moments and the spoils of nostalgia.

It is quite a view.

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Torn Edges

As pieces of me

Lie shredded

against the banks

of the past,

I look at myself

In a reflection

And wonder how much

Of the old me is left.

How much am I leaving behind,

What’s going to patch up

these torn edges?

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Bottles

I’ve collected the past,

Bottles upon bottles of it.

Now and then,

I pick one of them out,

Unscrew its lid,

Place it on my lips

And get drunk

On the memories

Of you and I.

When I’m done with one,

I grab yet another,

For the intoxication

Of days past

Only makes me want them more.

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Story

Is this the story

Of how I bend over backwards

To reach what I have left in the past?

Or is this the one

Where I reach forwards and let

The tips of my fingers

Feel the loose threads of a future

Not quite stitched together yet?

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Paper Towers

The last few lines of this post are from a memory I’ve shared with one of the most incredible people. I hope she sees this someday. 

I’ll admit

There have been times

When I’ve felt the impulse,

A short stab in my heart

That tells me to reach out,

And place the words into your ears.

But how?

I ask myself every day.

I wish it were a simple fix

But it’s much more than that.

It’s not like our days in the past

Where tape and glue would do,

Because,

The only things that needed fixing 

Were the paper towers we built back then,

When you were nine

And I was ten. 

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