Writing To Forget

woman at bar

Writing To Forget

The beautiful woman
sat at the empty bar
lost in deep thought. 
Why was she there 
trying to remember
or drinking to forget

I recognize her sadness
It plagues my dark eyes
causing deepest thoughts
as I quietly pen my words.
Am I trying to remember
or am I writing to forget

Image taken from Pinterest

Remembering To Forget You

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Remembering To Forget You

Last month my nostalgic
heart made me recall the
happiness I thought would
never end.

Last week I trembled at the
bittersweet recollection of
your fingertips stroking my
bare chest.

Last night I sighed when the
unused pillow in my lonely
bed reminded me of your
intoxicating scent.

Last chance to recover from
this painful loss. Tomorrow
I’ll try my best to remember
to forget you

Yesterday, while reviewing my earlier posts, I found inspiration in one of the few poems that I truly love. Never Meant For You

Disclaimer: This is pure fiction.  Thankfully, Allie is still by my side.

Photo taken from Pinterest.

If I Am Your Rock

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If I Am Your Rock

If I am your rock
You are the ground
That kept me on my feet

If I am your universe
You are the bright sun
The fills my life with light

If I am your man
You are the woman
Who made me who I am

If I am your strength
You are my sanctuary  
When I lay my head upon your breast

Photo of Allie taken by me on our anniversary May 30, 2016.

Tears That Never Seem To Fall

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Tears That Never Seem To Fall

Amanda is no different
than you or me.
She wears a mask
that always keeps a smile.
It prevents the tears
that never seem to fall.
On rainy days
she sits by the window.
Gazing at her reflection
in the window pane.
It appears as if
the drops of rain are
streaming down her face.

Photo taken from Pinterest.

The Mirror (100 Words)

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The Mirror

Henry watched his wife stand before the magic mirror he purchased at the antique shop. The shopkeeper assured him she would love it.

Glowing, Samantha admired her youthful reflection minus every wrinkle and twenty pounds. Platinum blond replaced thinning white hairs. Her leathery skin worn by time, appeared soft and radiant.

“If only I still looked this way.” Samantha passed her withered hand across her aged face, “I was flawless.”

He smiled.

“Look at my reflection. See how beautiful I was twenty years ago.”

“I don’t need the mirror,” Henry replied. “I can see how beautiful you are from here.”

Lost

night streets

Lost

He wore his five o’clock shadow
like fine cologne
roaming crowded city streets 
yet so alone

He strolled boulevards and alleys of 
a loveless maze
happy ending became dead ends
along the way

He was a fighter, a rebel, a writer of
words so blue
he was a wanderer forever lost ’til
he found you

Photo taken from Pinterest.