Let it Pass

Why should I care
if you write or if you call?
if you even know I breath

at all?

We invest in people,
our hearts, and minds,
like books taking space,
the words we write,
the speech we make.
until we become silenced by regret.

why emote?
why and why, oh why...

Let it Pass.
the hurt and the waste.

Let it not feel
or hurt or wear a groove
or take up root,
or make a song
nor let the heart to break.


Be a book I read
and then moved on,
a happy memory
or strange dream.

A chapter of life
we read and leave
but learn
and recall.
You were never real,
and
I was nothing at all.

because I don't exist
and not a person to you,
any you.

So.

Why should I care
if you write or if you call?
if you even know I breath

here.
or there, at all?