Beautiful music plays
while I remember—the worst—
most beautiful days.

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Beautiful music plays
while I remember—the worst—
most beautiful days.
It’s not the job that does a man in
but the off-days,
when he’s got the time
but still can’t find the reason.
I remember all my wasted days
so vividly now and always
because for all my wasted days
tallied together, I’m that much more
thankful for the good ones
and the people I shared them with,
who made them great and who I miss dearly
upon all these abundant, wasted days.
No matter the days happenings,
good, bad, or ugly—
remember to remind her,
the one you love—you love her
and there’s no place you’d rather be
than with her, dreaming of tomorrow.
Seven months &
Two days
since…
Nothing really makes sense,
does it? Didn’t then,
doesn’t now!
Life just goes on until it doesn’t.
Like the envy of a caterpillar
for the beauty of a butterfly.
Was she ever happy
or was she just pretending?
Was I?
I agree to disbelieve any such questions.
Foolish notions.
I’ve given it far too much energy
to accept such nonsense
and far too little to concede.
What a crime to disregard our time
together no matter how wild
or foot-dragging it was.
I may be a fool but I’m not a foolish fool.
A pity? No.
We were glorious in our infancy
and though covered in blood and tears
marvelous in our dying days.
So many histories
So many lives
cherished
and now
this.