I’ve learned quite well how to be good to me
Alongside trying to be good to you
The hot and cold of you I strain to see
rhythms I tolerate when shine blacks blue
So should I seem to be desensitized
Not care about the way your passion wails
And you gaze in the depths of these brown eyes
And see a man who does not care we failed
Who does not long to live with confidence
The joy we share will stay beyond a day
Who dispossessed of language, my words bent
No longer wants a complement who’ll stay
Be sure if one day that’s the man you see
that I’m a poet, without poetry
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Life is about making memories
we are pulled into the world with nothing but memories
warm snuggly memories of ma.
we received from the world with nothing but memories
good ones
bad ones
hideous ones that make us appreciate the good and bad ones
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