We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.
What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.
Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.
The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.
Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?
© 2021 j.g. lewis
Slow down: even with the ideas that come to quicky. Take the time to acknowledge the feelings that arrive, as they arrive.
Write it down. How else will you remember what you were thinking?
Print neatly. You hardly understand the thoughts at the time, why make it more difficult to comprehend weeks or years from now?
Follow your own logic; only you need to truly make sense of what is happening, or all that has happened.
Pay attention to the lessons of the past. Be mindful that not all are worth repeating.
Clarity. Make corrections as you go. Flaws become more difficult to correct the longer you live with them.
11/14/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
What happens to the sleep we didn’t get,
words we did not heed, or tears never allowed
to travel down our cheek?
Those weeks, or months,
you refuse to speak of; what happened?
Then.
What became
of the people we didn’t need, or like,
or replaced? Have you given any thought to
what you meant to them? Once upon a time
fairy tale or delusion.
Shared.
Then, remember
the personalities or prospects,
the ones where you didn’t have the self-respect
to introduce yourself to.
Where was your confidence,
or willingness to bare your soul?
Easier, is it not, to confide in a stranger?
Those familiar with your ways,
those who have read a few chapters of your story
may not understand
your reservation.
Someone back when
knew you well, wanted to know more,
then gave up.
Or was that you?
Emotions enrich our lives,
as easily as they can destroy
all we stay alive for.
Is that a reason to hold back?
There was once value in vulnerability.
Now; well, you know.
If you rephrase the question,
are the answers still the same?
Long past a series of coincidences,
the obscenity of silence remains.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
