Wishing Why Sometimes

     Beginning to feel like a funeral home and seeing the memories running around my torn yet callus feet

 which has become an area which old lovers and old places run their fingers through,

 Again and again with each step to new love, new pain, new life and most times just observing without saying a word and wishing why can't I say something when the wounds becomes a blemish on the tears we hold in, again and again.

I run and fall upon discipline. Still looking down, still asking why some crashes breaks your bones while others give you scabs with scratches?

Do you know without telling or asking with a language we made up on our own?

High lightening the steps with white-chalk, running up and down the cement stairs we used to call home, I only visit the ones that you still sit upon, the ones you've already been to and the ones you've painted different colors.

Every morning, each day, every sun-rise and every dawn sometimes painting is necessary it beats the chalk doesn't wash away when the rain comes along, 

The childhood paintings on the sidewalk picturing how life we've always thought it was from our first runs with occasional falls.

But wishing why sometimes,

meeting eyes of strangers or loved ones, or the continual walks we still do.

I can only promise to be there in the absence. Understanding why we've stop asking for help when we need it. Why we don't take new photographs anymore only preoccupied remembering the old ones, living the ones we've didn't write in chalk instead still there watching your ghost painting the steps with different colors than I have, to memories written in paint.

Reviews

[Ardra]

still there watching your ghost painting the steps with different colors than I have, to memories written in paint.

mmmmm we seem to have found a common love for ghosts of past hahah... :) such deep emotions over flowing out of these... loved all of it..