PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I keep taking all of this in,

hypnotized in the magic hour,

and not remembering in the morning.

How do I keep

this gold sky, blue sun,

so much I don’t know but it doesn’t matter in the dark

in a place with so many memories?

Sometimes they catch up with me,

climb on my shoulders,

now I am panting and I just know this hill is the last thing I will see and I am wishing I would have said everything to you instead of nothing

but I didn’t say nothing, I just said nothing out loud

and sometimes I think this is the only way I can speak

but I have so many memories.

For a second I think most of them are regrets

and then I read back through them and

somehow lightning hit me and I feel the scars

but it left a spark.

I can take in all this past

and write about the world at home.