Past, Present, Prose

I remember the fights, the scars and the bruises.

I remember the names "you're the king of the losers."   

                                                                            

All the scenes in the streets when the drinks ran amok,                                                                                      

the "I never loved you's" the "I don't give a fucks!"

And then in the middle of a nightmare like this,                                                                                           

I stop and remember the one perfect kiss.    

                                                                                                  

My hand on your face and your head tilted down,                                                                                         

That was fireworks and passion stirring around.

Memories like this make me look to the sky,                                                                                        

you're no longer with me and I don't know why.        

                                                                                   

But I think of this kiss and remember the taste,

because it's this, your sweet kiss, that I

never could hate.