I was looking through my computer and found some old writing. I mean really old. I haven't written poetry since...well, since a few months after my break-up with my college boyfriend. THE college boyfriend. You can tell by the writing - I cannot imagine being able to write poetry today, good or bad.
I also realized once again that I don't just have a good memory. I have a memory that allows me to relive the exact senses, feelings, and smells of that memory. Probably why I try not to do too much of that nowadays. Good thing the toddler keeps me busy!
the wise learn from others' mistakes,
less so-from their own,
the insane, they pretend they can replay a tune and change it
merrygoround's broken wings ache with pressing time
whoever knew it had a soul that hovered low to the ground?
massochists like to re-live their pained emotions
sadists like to force them to do so
hence why they look so good together
tears are not emotions, they are a natural bodily function
that forms with chronic dissatisfaction
while sharpening its claws in the dark
the black cat cries at the pain it causes the paper doll
her black cardigan sighs in contempt and lays itself torn
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