MEMORIES

[Mista]

Blank walls I stare…searching, lost for the words,
That I had on the tip of my tongue,
But is manifested through the ink that I scribe.
Late night hours on the phone, back and forth,
Looking for the rationale and reasoning’s,
For revisits of past days.
Frightened, but excited to test the waters.
The possibilities could possibly be possible,
Maybe dangerously imminent.
Finger snap is all that I needed,
But burns when I put them together.
Feels like the singeing of my fingerprints…
You, tell me, there is a black box
Where your heart lives,
And I had the key all the time.
Did not know that, until you let me know this.
It burns my pockets,
Mesmerizing my mind,
Desiring to look…
I keep it there.
Feels like the black box is the first cousin to Pandora,
That’s what my first mind is telling me.
Disobedience to obey is catastrophic,
Major tropical depressions,
Category five type shit
That I don’t need to mess with.
Comin’ back from the dead is never cool…
That’s where I’ll leave it, so it can be.
And I look at the smoke when the flames go out,
And watch them disappear into the night…

copyright (c) 2008 Charles Meadows