Days go by, drowned in memories –

stories written in invisible ink.

I want something cool to gravitate

my way. Instead, I forget

and get lost underneath the cross I carry.

 

I don’t think it’s for me to carry

alone: That sea of memories

might take a lifetime to forget.

but, those bottles and bottles of ink

are welled in eyes to which I gravitate.

 

I’m not inert waiting to gravitate

towards despair that others carry –

it’s just that I can’t forget

and I want to wear their memories

like tattoos etched in black and purple ink.

 

But, really, their lives and deaths are the ink

that guides and draws my pen to gravitate

across words already formed in memories

and in promises and I can’t afford to forget

that we all had hopes that I seek to carry

 

In that limitless space inside my human heart I’ll carry

every living drop of ink

and I’ll pray that their despair will gravitate

towards better things and then those memories

will be the something cool I won’t forget.