You were never jaded
Never worn down
Or torn after all these years
Artwork standing intact
Workmanship like you is slowly fading extinct
Ever since sixteen candles decorated your cake
You’ve reminded me of the Sistine Chapel
You were pristine battles where bullets of sweat and paint landed exactly where they were meant to.
Finding a frame to match is humanly impossible,
So your figure is Gods doing.
And nothing this breathtaking should be stationary.
Which is why you’re never content.
You made me forget
Formation and syllables
Learning from a queen
This realist was ready to reenlist
With my miss I’ll walk confidently through
all levels of our awaiting inferno
My morning coffee
You give me a reason to wake up,
But you make it that much harder to get out of bed
Taste is relative.
Life gives a perfect balance of lemons and sugar, you have to create your own juice.
A man between life and death, when given more than enough rope to survive will make his own noose
Choices can take your last breath.
I remember we would stand hip to hip
Juxtaposed for these pictures.
Conjoined in memory
But not in destiny