#1
here's a little poem i wrote the other day.


Muscle memory

Sometimes I slip.
With my mind a thousand miles away
I skip through the silvered essence of time
to find myself looking at a golden age.
At a boy I once knew, on a familiar stage.

With my fingers as guide I follow.
But linger on the few words not begged or borrowed
by the shady forces of regret.
So blind I was, so eager to forget.

I wish I knew then that price would last.
Long after the ashes of the photographs
had dispersed along with the inner flame.
The fire that cleansed each word in your name.

But as I drift I find
my hands transcend the depths of time
to fill with memories the room.
Because although each word in your name was lost,
the music remains.
And it appears my fingers can still recall the tune.
#3
liked the writing. some of the rhyming words used were pretty creative but i dunno, some were a little too the "norm" i guess, cool tho. seems something or someone has been forgotten in time but has left good thoughts to visit whenever you can.