Scraps from thoughts I have
When I’m thinking, I find my words are formed clearly. It’s not until I’m alone that I have the time to listen to him often.
I’m a poet only in books and in person I’m to scared by the modern day’s looks to even read my books in public.
I wonder if the words that I made, match the flame that was awaken when I thought of you
More minutes than a few to burn away slowly
I’m young but my mind grows like old men try and remember their youth
Everyday I learn new words to say to you
Sometimes
I tell myself not to wonder why it doesn’t seem that they stuck with you














