If you’d said what you needed to say,
then your mind would be clear cut like
a lack of final forest for the
first funeral.
Broken blood vessels in faded hearts
forgotten lie among the memories made
rotten.
If I’d gotten any closer, I’d fall away.
If I’d made a move to stay,
the first would have faded to gray,
gotten laid to rest with the
past and rest.
If I’d held on tighter,
the day would cease getting righter and the
self would be lost to sea.
I see loss every time something is gained.
Something is taken from a.
The pain pauses with pleasure,
sides with whether or not that time
will be forgot or live as a legend
in someone’s eyes, through memories lie.
Life does not.
I’m glad these days I have not forgot
that life is for living.