Don'T Mean a Damn Thing
I must have been so naive.
Writing most of my other poems.
Not knowing what love was or is.
I still have no clue.
I guess I never really had it,
since apparently you can't lose it.
My poems and thoughts were
written from watching and looking
from afar.
Never having experience of my own.
Then I finally has that chance and felt it.
And then it was gone, vanished
without a trace.
Maybe I thought I knew what it was,
and yet I didn't even live up to
my own words.
I read my forgotten pieces
from so long ago.
Apparently, so much
that they don't mean a damn
thing to me.
Copyright © Jacen Cieno | Year Posted 2012
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