existence is perspective
the sanded edges of memory
cause history to evolve
we aren’t who we are
nor are we who
we will be
it is foolish to believe
a memory is forever
that love is everlasting
or that you are important
the phases of lives
bumping into one another
like so many
soap bubbles
floating on the wind
please don’t let mine
pop
for here, inside this breath
perhaps i won’t be
forgotten
misremembered
sand beneath the
boot of time
i make myself real
in every brush stroke
each wiped tear
a hundred loaves
ten thousand cookies
millions of stitches
all the back rubs
and neck kisses
yes
this is my memory
and perhaps
where my name is lost
are just blank pages
i was never meant
to be
or maybe
they just await my story
not yet
told