Idea

Ideas aren’t like light bulbs, sparking overhead,

they arrive like the scratching of a key in a

rusty doorknob, as you lay in dream state, in bed.

Your mind will remain scared, scarred by

history if you don’t remember what was said.

The ghost of a forgotten memory haunting

one’s creations, the living wilting petals, dead.

The loss of a passport, a girl’s I.D., an idea

that could of blossomed into family, one’s

lack of decisiveness led to divisiveness, the

definition of a deficit, deficiency in opportunity.