Playing with creativity -- The Art of losing

The art of losing is a necessary one

Lost memories that are unstitched through time

Each string lost 

Until your face is a blur

Emotions  are torn apart

From the very fabric of these memories

They are Recycled

And Reused

Into new memories

Where new lovers delight

They are mended again

Neatly stitched within each memory

And a nicely placed red bow called love

When your gentle hands are finished

I realized that the art of losing was necessary.

Playing with creativity - Letters from the beyond

You there, standing, You don’t notice me. By the time you get this I will be long gone. I wanted to write something cheesy like, “thank you for loving, sorry in advanced for not telling I was sick-peace”, but then I realized the humor would be painful, and you would probably resent me so I opted for this. I remember when we met. You were reading by the library. At this time I was fine, probably dying, but fine anyway. I liked your yellow stripped shirt that made you look like a bee with your fuzzy buzzcut that was now growing. Well now that I am dead you must know that I think it was love at first sight for me.

Misstep (poem)

We didn’t want to take two steps forward

That was one two many steps

And so we stayed there  without moving

Flint

Loneliness makes me uneasy. It is a flint bouncing off a wooden surface, ready to combust. I’m so scared to confront it; to get consumed by it. But if I don’t, it will take everything.  Some days its not so bad, but other days the flint becomes unstable and threatens the cabin.