I Remember Too Clearly

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I remember
All too clearly
All the things you did

I try
To let it go
To simply walk away

But then
Just like that
It all comes crashing back

I remember
All too clearly
All the things you did

I want
To let it go
To leave it in the past

But then
I close my eyes
And I see it all again

I remember
All too clearly
All the things you did

I need
To let it be done
To let it all just wash away

But then
I remember
Everything single thing you did

Walking Through the Garden of the Forgotten

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Sometimes
I walk through cemeteries
Looking at headstones
Wondering how many people
Have forgotten
That person ever lived

Then I wonder
If someday
Someone will walk past
My headstone
And wonder how many people
Have forgotten I ever lived at all

I feel in some sick way
I’ll be more connected
To that person
Walking through
The Garden of the Forgotten
Than with most during my life

There Are Some Things the Rain Can’t Wash Away

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There are just some things
That the rain can’t wash away
Not sins and not memories
History just can’t be undone

I still hop the train once in a while
And walk that sidewalk downtown
Sometimes I imagine
The bloodstains are still there

But of course they aren’t
The rain has washed them away
Far better than time has done
At washing away the memories

How quickly things changed
That sunny summer day
How much some things
Just seem to stay the same

I still love to stand out in the rain
With my face tilted to the sky
Hoping that there are things inside
That the rain can finally wash away

Dark Passages

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Sometimes
We have to turn off
What ever light
We have inside
To survive
The dark passages
That we sometimes
Have to travel
And we must do it
Alone

I’ve been through
Those darkest paths
Shut off
From the rest
Of the world
And become
The dark thing
I needed to be
To get through
To the other side

But that’s the problem
Isn’t it
Once you’ve let it in
The darkness
Never quite
Goes away
It clings to you
Inside of you
Becomes part
Of who you are

So if that’s the choice
The only one
Light
But dead
Or dark
And survive
Then it isn’t a choice
Not for those of us
That only know
How to survive

Walking Away

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I’ve always had the strength
I need to walk away
I just never wanted to use it
Always thinking
That we will find our way

I’m not ready just yet
To look for the exit
I need you in my heart
The good of you
Still far outweighs any bad

But I’m scared
That when I decide
I can take no more
And I am ready
That the strength will be gone

Locked

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Doors
And windows locked
But still they came
They never even knocked
The ghosts were angry
Tired of this little game
And now we were trapped
Inside this house
With ghosts
That knew my name
It wouldn’t help
To scream and shout
Nor try to find
Some way out
We should have left the doors
Unlocked

Gently She Cried

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Gently she cried
I never knew why
I just held her
Until her tears
Had dried

I never knew her name
She never knew mine
Our stories
Unknown to each other
But forever
Intertwined

This is an odd but true story. About 15 years ago I got on the metro riding home after working very late one evening.

The train was almost empty when I got on, but there was a woman sitting near the door with her head bowed down. I remember she was probably in her late 30’s, early 40’s, dark hair about shoulder length.

That was all I could tell because her head was bowed down. At first I thought she was sleeping, but after a stop or so, I noticed she was softly crying.

I don’t know why I did it, but I switched seats to sit next to her. She never looked up, I never saw her face. I leaned next to her and slid my arm around her shoulder.

In retrospect, I’m surprised she didn’t react violently… a giant 6’3 man in his mid twenties sitting down next to her putting his arm around her. We’re I in her shoes I think I might have.

But she didn’t. She leaned into me, head on my shoulder and cried.

I missed my stop, but knew I couldn’t move, so I just sat. For several stops she cried, but at some point she stopped. She still didn’t move, she just sat there. And so I sat there, not moving a muscle.

We never said a word until one of the stops she stood up, and muttered thank you without ever looking at me and she left the train. I didn’t respond. To this day I can’t remember why not. Whether I was stunned, afraid to break some spell, or simply lost in the moment, I still don’t know.

I could have gotten off, I still needed to switch trains to back tack, but I didn’t. I sat there almost stunned.

Some times I regret not speaking, not finding out more. But usually not. There is something almost spiritual about that event.

I still think about that night sometimes. Wondering what her story was. Wondering if she wonders what mine was.

It’s interesting how our lives intersect; sometimes violently, sometimes gently, almost imperceptibly.