I Write

I write

For wet concrete blocks and

Empty park benches,

Of ugly winter sweaters and

Unsaid forgotten thoughts.

For limp leaves and bright socks,

Lukewarm hearts and filthy weather.

To fill blank pages and 

Lonely memory slots.

To drink down daily nights and

For faithless sanity's sake.

I prefer

Pouring bleach on blood stains,

Melancholic life over dream constraints.

Flatlands over magical plains,

Observing grey everyday.

I prefer 

Enduring tragedies over

Fleeting calamities.

Come ask me why.

I write 

Brimming grins over 

Yearning lives.

Come ask me why.