Moving On

What hurts about moving on
is knowing that what you
once had is now gone. Now,
thoughts don’t skip a beat,
just like a record stuck on
repeat. Flashes of the past
dash by on the other side
of our eyes. Moving on is
like skipping your favorite
song: it just feels wrong.
Pain becomes strength.
Misery becomes history.
Doubt becomes acceptance.
Moving on is going forward.
Staying back is waiting for
life to attack. Don’t be a
victim to a life you’re given.

Step-Poet

These words aren’t mine. Well, the configuration,
the arrangement, and the manifestation of them
are mine to tell, yell, or sell. The rest falls on me.
I own nothing. I just borrow letters and words
that were said, used, or abused in old worlds.
I rent these words – these phrases: these upper
and lower cases. I use these words. They don’t
go to waste. These words help me save face.
They can tell you things that my mouth won’t.
I will never dishonor these words as they are
sacred to me. They provide light: the insight
that does me right. Like eyes that envision
better days, these sentences help me create
early mornings and dark nights running late.
These words aren’t mine, but I treat them
like they are. They carry me through the day
when I don’t have anything to say. Anyway,
I use these words to tell you to stay true
to yourself and to never forget about things
that will help you through all of the pain.



City Lights

I become blinded
when I’m surrounded
by too many lights.
I become confused
when I start to lose
my sense of sight.
I envision my life
becoming a light
that carries on
throughout the night.
I have become the light
that harmed my sight.
I can’t help but shine
bright like many others
who light up the night.