Little things left and forgotten.
A collection of novels read and poems written.
Short hair, long hair; all the time: messy hair.
Pencils, acrylics and gel ink pens.
Doodles hidden away in notebooks, words published on blogs.
The dancing that nobody ever saw, pictures of tiny objects, big brown eyes.
The view from a number of windows, the soft cold air of some mornings.
A long catalog of men that I wish others would forget;
A small list of men that hold the world together.
Paper-mâché, ceramic and plastic.
Tangible skin; a kiss, a bite, a hand sliding down (a dark whisper that turns you on).
Tears of frustration, quiet afternoons, uncontrollable laughter.
A secret rendezvous and a not so secret affaire.
Cotton, silk and perspiration.
Red bull with vodka, coffee. An Ale and a Stout.
The desire to be like her (and the reality that I am not).
Edited memoires of friends.
A body without tattoos, a collection of scars.
The humming of a song, clumsy hands, playful feet.
More feelings that I can handle; an honest smile.
All the things that I told you and a few that I skipped.
Little things left and forgotten;
Things that I can’t get back, things that I don’t want back.
A chaotic to-do list.
This is all I am:
(If you ever ponder about me)