Rewriting history is dangerous.
You could be the hero or villian
or just a bystander. No fame
or infamy, just a person.
No dragons to fight, no evil plan.
No amazing creations.
Ancient history has all the royals
and all the peasants.
If you could chose, would you?


Let’s raise the dead.
Bring them back.
If you could,
would you?
Who would you?
That little girl
who loved pink
and peperamis?
Or would you
let her sleep
in ingerant peace.


We keep our most valued objects
in the beating chamber of our hearts,
the rest protects them.
The not so treasured memories
act like a wall some Ompa Lumpa
man would be impressed with.
It’s the moments we like
that protect the ones we love.
Maybe that’s what I did.
I put you away and surrounded
you with all the things I can’t
put close to my Frankenstien heart.


You are in creating new treads
in the patterns of my brain.
The shoes that you wear
leave impressions of memories
in the snow blanketed parts
of my mind previous untouched.
Footprints over the top
of the fingerprints you left.
Thats the issue with relationships
that only happen in your head,
the other person has no idea
how much you love and dread
when they stop stepping on you.


Sling me away
with the gifts
that hurt
to look at.
Sling the things
that remind
you of me.
Sling everything
as far away
as you can.
Sling the ache
that you burn
into your
sobbing brain.
Sling all of it.
Get rid
of all the things
that I touched.
I know
that you are
it’s what
I’m doing


In your house, there are photos of you.
Baby fat, awkward hair and graduations.
In ours, there would be photos of us.
First anniversary, moving in, Sunday cuddles.
Picture perfect projections
Of how you see us, of how you see me.
Somehow I am a misfit
in our two person pictures.
No filter makes me look right.
No angle is flattering enough
to make me look like someone you see.


Your presence is still felt.
You are in the ornaments
In my room.
You are in the hoody I wear
when in cold.
You are in my Netflix choices
and recommendations.
You are in the train tickets
I get in the mornings.
You are the earworm
I want to keep.
You are in the rooms
in my head,
You are in the chambers
of my heart.
You are in the music I hear
and the warmth
That I miss.