eternally internal

I want to capture moments in time I could never recreate, 

 like when my Finnosaurus Rex fell asleep to the beat of my heart.

And the moment dad hugged me tighter and tighter with every drop that escaped from it"s cage.

Or when Talley let out a snort in front of everyone

and couldn't control it from happening again.

And when grandma used to remember me 

and tell me I was what she pictured her Jenny to be like.

How grandpa shared a part of his life with me in that tiny closet space.

Or the time I sat on that waterfall with it's rushing waters and that silly ginger,

I wish I could capture the times in front of that couch grasping the pillow tightly

 awaiting my charging brother

 as he readied himself for the tackle.

And when I made a six footer crinkle his nose and squint his eyes as he genuinely laughed,

making that noise unbearably beautiful.

I wish I could capture these in a jar and keep them on my night stand to help remember

and drown out the days it appears all I ever do is mess up.

And help me cope when I'm feeling the strings of my guitar Saturday night 

instead of the rhythm pulsing in my veins and

the beat pushing it's way into the crevasse of  my chest

making me feel more alive than I ever have. 

It's not my year

not this time.

So I keep these memories ever so closely to me 

as I fall into unconsciousness for the night.