Now all we have’s the memory.
I’ll keep the one to forget
if you keep the one to remember.
The one never to forget,
the ones kept best from afar,
and the occasional Holiday on ice.
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silent is the night
Happiness &
Sadness
bleed
into one
single
droplet, which
slowly
falls
from cheek
to chin, while
the sun sets
and small houses
glow
I’m reminded
it’s not over
yet —
silent is the night —
it’s still
so
far
from
the beginning.
your dying
Did you burn yourself out
like a flame wick under wax?
Or were you just here for the holiday?
Is that why you smelled vanilla?
I don’t have a match that’s long enough
to strike you from this far,
with another year upon us.
I just kind of smelled your dying.
Words Of An Average White Male 