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.
