Untitled (To Stay True To Original Intent)

I did once write you some words,
and I stored them on an old sheet of paper,
that became wrinkled through the abuse of time passing through my bedroom.
I found it a few days back,
slightly yellowed, and set it on my nightstand to return to it later.


***** (this indicates the passage of time, count to ten please)

Later, I returned to the paper, and found it sitting (slightly yellowed) on my nightstand.

(I think I had a dream once, about some profound words. . .
something like, "Wall thrust up with stars upon them/ Blades of grass, with worlds between them"
But on this paper was nothing so profound.)

I think at first I liked what it was I read,
something like, "For a kiss would mean the world/ And an embrace like winds that blow rain clouds to barren landscapes"

But things change.

So I crumpled the paper up,
and threw it away.

I think it's for the best.
I told you anyways, the best poem I've ever written was
my heartbeat
and your hand on my chest


- posted by Jonathan@ 8:24 AM