8.12.13

Flurry

I take a pen and put it to paper,
Hoping to make sense of it later.
I open up, I drop it all, and hold myself somewhat tall.

Once, I held to the relief.
That I would never feel any
Lover's grief.

But there is no escape from such things.
I learned it all, and relive it now.

Time is short.
Time is naught.
Hold in the chaos.
Held the way-

Want to talk, gone in all the places,
And no where else.