i will not die entirely!
let the world take bits and pieces
of me
these words will be my testimony
if my bones begin to creak
like the bus walls that greets me
every morning
remember that these walls
know of my warmth
they will remember my words
i will linger in the corners
and if you look closely enough
at the dust suspending in air
perhaps remnants of my
fraying jeans and decaying tees
will still be settling into the seats
and when this bus gets broken
down and lies in shards in the
junkyard it will still remember me
i will not die entirely
YOU ARE READING
the soft
Poetrythey say to be soft is to be powerful but it gets harder to believe that every passing day
