Soul Stripped.

We fast forwarded life.
Squeezing years into minutes as days pass us,
No planning involved.
Moments. We live in them,
Yet theyre nothing at all.
We quickly forget how particles of time
Formed us into the people that we are today.
Not necessarily mindless, but still dead in a sense.
No feelings, no emotions.
We're no longer moved to tears.
We're just moving.

Pretty, Pretty.

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

-Pablo Neruda

Early Morning.

Imani has suggested that I continue to write poetry, although its caused lots of issues in my life in the past. Soooo, I'm gonna write. Eventually.