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A Skeletons Past

to Marcy Howard

Every night when I lie down, your absence hits me deep,
All the memories seem like dreams, yet there’s no dreaming until we sleep,
Events and colors cloud my thoughts, and right now they seem surreal,
Things I know that we possess, with no seeing and no feel.
 
 
Something that can not be seen, for it lives somewhere within,
All those dreams that come at night, where the skeletons shadows begin,
If a thing we know is real, is something that’s unseen,
Does it mean our sanity, is caught somewhere between,
If we question things we feel, are we guided by our fear,
Because we must listen very close, if oue hearts we are to hear.
 
 
Do the skeletons of our pasts, determine what we see,
Making it seem impossible, to let found love roam free,
We can not alter past events, yet their affect can be profound,
Giving us invisible scars, with screams that hold no sound,
It seems a funny thing to me, to call them skeletons of the past,
After all they’re already dead, why does their hold still last.
 
 
Things we analyze with our minds, are the things that we should fear,
As we alter important facts, to fit what we must hear,
All these memories from the past, these skeletons that cause tears,
Make what we found together more, make sense they’re perfectly clear,
Happiness lives in both our hearts, but apart it can’t come near,
Love lives in both our eyes, but our minds must let us share.

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