Countless notes unsaved,
and poems lost
Too many boys and men,
lovers, neighbors
coworkers and fake friends
cost more energy
than I can restore
in the time it takes
to erase their memories
from when the highs felt natural
before there was nothing
to hide or lie about,
nothing to fear
in the days I could think straight
and not have to wait
for the fogs to clear
Do you remember
with each new face you meet
that people are
all carrying
something inside
that makes them feel
a little weak,
and how do you prepare,
how can you ever really know
just how much heart
to share, or how much
if any at all,
of your true self to show?
There was a dream in plaid
and tight black jeans
with a voice reverberating in me,
that painted a scene
of a thick forest far up north,
shrouded in rain clouds
With his fair skin and crystal
light eyes,
and youthful, radiant smile
he intrigued my mind
and rendered me speechless
and of all his bits of ink
just one stood out
and I still think of the words,
drawn on his leg, with this simple
but profound message, which read
“Nothing lasts make it count”
(c) Ruth Nineke 2019
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