Sweet Remembrances

I don't think about you much anymore,
but when I do,
my heart's not as sore-
as when the pain was still fresh, still ripe....
Starting anew, a clean slate, a cleansing swipe.
I saw you, once, but only in passing-
a quick glimpse, memories and emotions flashing...
It was hard to keep from stopping you to ask
if you'd hurt too, if you'd worn the same mask
of oblivion, of facade,
but doing that would've been like some strange occurrence,
too awkward, and too odd.
Like crossing a pond far too broad
with only water skis for support-
I just couldn't fake the rapport
of two friends, having a friendly interlude;
We'll never be that easy again, it'd have just been rude.
You're no more than a sweet memory now,
like an old friend that stops by once in a while-
bringing lingering emotion, and fleeting smiles.
It used to hurt to think of you, of me,
of what we'd once been...
But time's healed my soul, and I know now that our end
was exactly what it was meant to be.
We were doomed before we began,
But I could never figure out why neither of us
turned and ran...
Were we in too deep? 
Were there too many promises
we tried to keep?
Looking back now, and even in retributive hindsight,
in my mind's eye I realize 
that we didn't have the means to fight
what was ultimately a losing battle,
of wills, of words, of useless prattle.
Questioning it now is futile,
a rhetorical argument with no rebuttal.
I wish we'd ended on more amiable terms,
but with hurt comes betrayal,
and only time can confirm
that what's always meant
isn't what always is;
But the past is just that,
and the future's just a teasing kiss.
It's not promised, nor is it certain,
just as we can't foretell the weather before
we draw back our curtains.
I may still love you, but it's hard to say,
as the presence you once maintained
fades with each passing day.
Blurred around the edges, is my remembrance of you...
But understand that it's nothing personal now,
moving on is what I must do.
I wish you happy, and I pray that you're blessed-
There's not much more left to say,
except that God's got the rest.

Little Book of Magic

All the passion I contain;
All the strengths I embody-
and that embody me-
manifest themselves in the form of words.
They come forth from me
as a river from a stream,
as a cloudburst on a seemingly perfect day.
Unexpected, yet strangely welcome.
Words are powerful.
Some are only as powerful
as the person who speaks them-
some have no power,
and others are powerful beyond measure,
whether spoken or read-
they can cause great pain, or bring great joy.
Words-
they are magic,
they can cause us to feel unspeakable, inexplicable things;
They can take us to places
far beyond that even which our own 
thoughts could create.
Words can cause us to fantasize, to fly....
to picture beautiful insanities,
transport us to worlds
beyond our imaginative mindsets.
Words can also cause destruction,
deadly and fiery crashes into oblivious hatred.
Painful descents - or glorious uprisings?
Words are magic-
a learned evil, or an innate good?
Depending on the speaker, and the listener,
the writer and the reader,
words carry an impact
that can either empower-
or devastate.
They help us to form opinions,
likes and dislikes...
They bring feelings to life;
My hasty scribble 
and wandering rambles
could rivet some,
and turn others away.
My words,
yours,
his, and hers,
can have an unspeakable effect on someone's life.
This is why I write-
This is why I bare my soul...
My words can touch someone.
Aloft as a fairy - sprinkling gold-dust and  dew,
You'll always see me with the 
magic wand that is my pen,
and the little book that holds my magic.