shortpoems
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Sometimes the old times start to relive.
Relive until I can’t live.
Can’t live because I’m living in the past waiting for the future.
She was a wild sparrow,
Her wings craved the open sky.
But, he wanted her in a cage
Locked up and distant
from the erratic sky.
Poems are neat little presents
We wrap our feelings up in and
Give back to ourselves to sort through.
Upset, angry, tired, cold,
Chocolate, espresso beans, warm pork-pulled.
When I feel bad: food is there,
Food is awesome and I don't care.
