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IT IS TIME, TIME THAT THIS DORMANT BRAIN IS
ONCE AGAIN REINCARNATED FROM ITS SELF
TIME FOR WORDS TO BEGIN AGAIN TO FLOW
INTO A STREAM OF PURE CLARITY TO
THE ERUDITE READER.
THUS THE POET WILL WITH EAGER PURPOSE
ENDEVER TO PAINT HIS WORDS WITH
INTENT TO PRODUCE REALITY.
A REALITY; NOT UNLIKE A DISTANT STAR,VISIBLE
BUT LACKING IT'S FINER DETAIL UNTIL THE
HEARTS DESIRE IS RESET.
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A poem about him. But more so about her. About her complexities and her contradictions.
The things we’ve been through become apart of us
A personal request for the Lord to be my Valentine
My poem is about a person that keeps forgetting about her truest friends