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To claim the ego to say to everyone

that we have anything to

say, well it takes a lot to tell someone

how we feel, how we are, what’s new?

The future we won is

just another bend in

the river we carved with

the way we hold our hands.

The way we watch our sands

fall from the rooms with

feather beds and bear skin,

But that’s not the future we want, is it?

And if I was the moon

staring at stars across the room

and I saw you,

I would eclipse and fall into

some shadow state

and hide my face

in fear that you

could see right through.

Some celestial scene.

Seems extreme,

but it’s meteors

we’re juggling.

Did you know you live

in the wrinkles of my skin?

And did you know that

what you want I would live?

The future we won is

just another rend in

the silk black sheets

that make up our memory.

The felling of another tree

to protect our heads from sleets

I wander in,

ivy, rains and winds I miss.

Tags: poem, Poems, Poetry, Reflections, thoughts, writing