Why does yesterday’s love collect dust on a pedestal in mind?

Today’s taken for granted and compared to the one left behind

Why does the memory haze of yesterday magnify and sharpen

Smells and colors of roses on your first happy Valentines Day?


Why does yesterday’s poem hold more beauty than one today?

Were words more eloquently said or did ears deceptively hear?

Did time filter anger, boredom, fears, frustration and dry tears”

Pain, desolation and lost commitment to the future years?


Don’t cling to the past like friendships that did not survive, last

Love, we believed to be, only a mirage, an act for all to see

Where went the tenderness, the tears shed for love that seared

Only the page here, while fresh ones cool the skin and your lips


Names and endearments of the past rise unattended like slang

Fangs of inadvertent poison injected lethally under the skin

Like a sharp knife into her underbelly uttering the wrong name

Beware the tongue that in it’s past obsession frequently slips


Like taking the name of the most sacred thing in vain on lips

Sealed, to the past, embracing tenderness and love potential

While yesterday, only a mist, fails to survive the lethal sun

A new day, new moment, a new chance to start fresh, again.


Carl James





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