on the lack of saints: in memory of some people I used to know

there were no saints
on those streets
you walked on
then
and now
wherever now is
just torn boys
turning into men
with conflicts raging
within
trying to live up
to some ideal
put upon you
carrying the scars
one gets
on body
on soul
and I
no longer your witness
carry you still
in my ravaged heart

12 thoughts on “on the lack of saints: in memory of some people I used to know

  1. Sometimes memory’s in the music, sometimes in the silence. You compress a lot into your short and almost self-dismissive lines. The thing is over so fast, it’s just like the thing that is missed; it goes by so fast and meaningfully.

    • Thank you, Jeff. It’s like dreams, you know. They seem to last forever but happen in minutes. Memory is so fleeting that one cannot hold on to it long.

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