Ambled ambitions,
an aching audacity;
aged adventurer.

do you know what it feels like
not to belong?

the mind is aching,
searching for a place
to call home,
where you get tucked in at night
and finally get some sleep

a place
to feel free,
where you can dance in the rain
and laugh in the pale moonlight

but the thing you refuse
to believe

you reject
in the depths of your heart

is the search
will never stop.

Losing something precious
Real or unreal
Alive, dead or neither
A loved one, an opportunity, someone’s trust, maybe the wedding ring you still wear even after a shattering divorce, no matter how furious you still are
The loss decorates your soul with flames the color or ink and charcoal
It burns away all that was linked to or too near to what you lost
Forgetting something precious
Hated or dearly loved
Broken or shining
A dalliance, an old friendship, or possibly even just an old worn sweater
from your first day of kindergarten
It doesn’t hurt as much as loss because you don’t realize it has happened
But there is this cracked and crumbling sense of longing
When you desperately search in your pile of thoughts for that memory
But it’s gone now
Like the panic that grips you when you drop something tiny and treasured
And it’s gone forever, lurking in the shadows
But it is so much worse to forget than to lose
It might not be an agony that is quite as blaring and ****** as loss
But it is a different kind of excruciating pain that never ever fades
Like a dull ache
Because even if you lose something
and the anguish rakes its blood-caked fingernails down your heart
Every. Single. Day.
One moment long ago, you never wanted to forget it
And now that you have,
It’s too late to recall it.
…
Never forget what you have lost even if it is gone
Because if you do, your heart will never lose the stinging stabbing
of what you forgot.

Here it is Creep :) Thanks so much for the collaboration invite, and accepting my earlier collab. invite! Such a thought provoking concept. Plus it was fun! I'd love to do it again anytime!
-Ember

Memories and flashbacks
Childhood. . . Grandma
Spoiled
Peaceful, country meadows
Ponds
Spaghetti O's
Roast beef,  beans and cornbread
Homework
her third grade education
Finding me with n Strangers
When my mom decided to go on drug fending binges from city to city
The swingset I wanted
The mudpies she ate
The sacrifices she taught me of
The determination she instilled
The cold mornings she made fires
Warmth,  breakfast in bed
Kittens, clotheslines,  and the never ending biscuit bowl that I never understood how it remained full day after day.
The plaits I hated yet love now
The smell of her clothes
How she sashayed when she dressed up
Her anger
Sitting in the porch with our dog Spot
Princygal the cat
Late night peanut butter cookie baking
The sign in her wall that said
Life is one fool thing after another
Love is two fool things after each other
That I read over and over again until finally I understood.
Everything clean and cooked by noon

What happens tomorrow?

He has the heart of a tattered harlequin
Patched and re-patched with rags of broken times that were once good.
The cloth of its chambers is worn and threadbare
Held by the shreds of borrowed nights and comical stolen mornings.

He has the heart of a battered harlequin
And regret has turned his blood to the colour of rust
Unanswered questions congeal and clog his pulse
When he is lonely and aching, time - not isolation- is his worst enemy

He has the heart of a knackered harlequin
Kept moist by whiskey and gin, and uppers and downers that he pops like candy
He has a patchwork sack of a heart
It can never be filled and often feels empty.