sometimes i remember the words
i think of them, fondly
with the sort of remembrance
only reserved for something
tangible, yet out of reach
something you had, had
the proper tense of
what was once and
is not yours anymore
they're still there often
they bend and stare
long and willowy, heavy
almost taunting they
like to settle in my
conscious state as i
drive and sit with sun
penetrating the small
hairs of my arms
now that that i can
i sit and compose
what you read is
just a reminder
i am here, stagnant
constantly reminded but
not able to unglue
