day one hundred eighty-seven: this is a timeline.

there are some days
i fall behind
some days i write in notebooks
(those days are fewer now,
i've yet to figure out why...)
and some days
the dates cannot be changed
that hide the words that i feel
because some day i will look back
and read what i've written here,
read when it was written
and be confused by my own memory
because it didn't happen like that:
on the date at the bottom of a poem.
the timeline of my life.
events spastic and unpredictable,
like schedules and inspiration
heartbreaks and depression,
they sometimes need a number
so i can remember
why i felt like i did
i wont have the problem
of traveling back in time
i can do it on a dime
with a number at the bottom
of a silly "meaningless" rhyme.