Poetry of Me

There was once a time I believed in the infinity of 'forever'

where dreams could meander, take root, divide, and grow,

riding out different lifetimes in spades;

​

But youth caught up with me, it never spoke so sternly before;

its ambition that colors the glasses rather quietly waited for me,

if I'd notice its purpose once more:

You never speak my name

but paint it across shop shutters

in her strands, her skin that speak

ardors in a city whose skin

graffities itself in her eyes, her lips,

a camera cheek, a forehead

of plush hopes, of youth &

the nose for pursuit of

Fortune’s benevolence.

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