I remove myself,
Like a missing citation.
I carry the weight of thoughts,
But not the words
To reference the feelings,
I exist in narratives and stories
That I fear few will understand,
And even fewer will ever read.
I find comfort,
In who we are.
Similar.
Both trash…
Discarded portions,
Like undesired pieces
On pages in a bin,
Soon to be deleted,
Immediately waiting to be erased,
From Random(ly) Accessed…
Memories.
REVIEWS & CONVERSATIONS: PALM LINES – JONATHAN KOVEN (TOHO PUBLISHING)
Since completing its pages, I daydream of skies raining amethyst and words of wisdom yelled from random apartments windows.
It was only a matter of time.
Our existence would only exist
In this chapter of my life.
The length was still undefined.
And with words
Lost in translation,
We exist on borrowed time.
Moments stolen from my dreams…
But I had to accept that
We were no longer
Only fucking.
I took days of distance,
Contemplated all my exes,
Reflected & Reminisced,
Made a few decisions
On how to measure…
Explain,
The depths of this experience
Random analogies and metaphors,
Simple words and phrases,
Digestible poetry…
Combo meals,
Popular for mass consumption.
I desire none of that.
