#485
During crummy evenings,
with shitty rain spitting,
i remember how we
spent that day in the forest,
letting the weather
pour over us,
appreciating the cycles,
the water, the spring,
it’s funny it put everything
into a playful perspective
it reminded me to pause,
stop, and smile as the
rain poured down upon me,
and the umbrella’d passerby’s
stares linger, a longer while.
#486
And he wasn’t there
for our hug goodbye,
it was bitter sweet,
on our last night,
hours sipping
speaking soft,
i’m glad at least
we had those
hours to talk,
when the morning
came, and he was gone,
i know it was
difficult, not because
he doesn’t care.
#487
i’ve read enough bad poetry,
to recognize i, myself,
am an obtuse perpetrator,
yet, the pen ceases to stop.
#488
i don’t know what else to call it
i don’t know what to say
the only thing that holds my sanity
is that i think you feel the same
it’s been awhile since we spoke
a fault, we’re both to blame,
it turns out each is too stubborn
which only makes us more the same,
i’d be lying if i said it hurt
because truly it doesn’t maim
it'd also be untrue that i don’t miss you
i’m so glad it’s you in this elaborate game.
#489
Uselessly soaking
as i pound through
the pavement’s puddles
through the cold markets,
i can’t help but thinking
in hours and days
i’ll be beside the fire
a steaming plate
of warm delicacies
you know it’s
really not so bad
right here, right now.
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Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write