The tales of the ink
Color me in a memory book,
drawing back to those -
sweet, bittersweet times.
Vivid pages & painted words,
my imagery is prominant;
outstanding on a flesh canvas.
Ms. Debbie cakes -
my girl and chocolate syrup.
Kinky, but sweet,
sticky to the touch;
she never wanted me to forget.
I left her stuffed with cream filling.
Ivory drips its greenness,
a pinch of red scraped scars.
Thorns invite porcelain hide,
it peels only when I'm done.
Write me a book of art;
or paint me words of hope.
My diamond in the rough
shining brighter than suns -
oh so far away from me;
bring them closer, please.
You'd think I'm famous
while I'm dancing with the stars.
A breeze defeats limbs,
swaying my cold body.
I'd leave, but never fall -
I'm not a September person.
But I'm raking, still shaking
in fear of weakness, starving.
Hungry for truth but actions
louder than volume itself...
That's why I don't talk, I do
not socialize. I motion lives.
Set back time, it's sit back time.
Chaos has yet to scream at me.
Call me a tatted tale -
just picture me, with pictures.
Life's ups & downs,
call it war pain, forever remaining.
I like it, it reminds me of scenes;
all the memories...
Alzheimer's can't take this away from me.