In an old computer that I used I found your poetry,
The image of a room,
I don’t remember rhyme or form but four bare walls sit with me still.
No light or sound in that room you built,
But silent echoes still rebound.
I chase your mind from birth to now and try and see the underneath.
I turn my own thoughts next to yours, to see reflection into me.
In all the stories I was told,
All the lies lie next to me.
Before memory came love,
Love in controlled doses,
Even to the others share,
But I never cared.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *