The Scrapbook That I Can'T Throw Away
Still frames with dead eyed memories.
Magic marker’d promises;
open ended lies
that I can’t seem to forget.
No matter how far I bury this thing
inside my closet. You always find your
way back, with a smile blooming
like a drunken rose.
Fingers run to the edge
of our little world’s grave yard;
flipping the nights over..
Trying to find the picture;
a moment that will sate
the hunger of regret.
But I haven’t found it yet..
-James Kelley 2013 All rights reserved
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