I think about you every day.
I remind myself to remember
the complexity of your eyes,
the softness of your hands,
and the comfort of your voice
as I refuse to forget the details
that I held so close.
I will keep you with me
for as long as I can,
Even if only in my mind.
Tag: Memories
Nostalgia
I am nostalgic for that day,
even though it never existed.
In reality we were never there.
We never walked down that street under fluorescent lights. We never sat surrounded by bushes on that wrought iron bench.
Your hands never felt mine, our bodies never touched, and our eyes never did meet.
That day...
Those moments...
All those memories are fictitious.
Yet somehow, someway,
I still remain able to miss it.
Pedestal
Once I have put you on a pedestal
you will not come back down gracefully.
I will destroy what I've built you up upon
and you will fall by force.
The foundation that held you up so high
will crumble as I decimate the mortar
with bloody, broken hands.
And you will lay there
dazed and confused...
Surrounded by nothing but dust.
Sweatshirt
Memories linger between
the threads of my sweatshirt.
Glimpses of lilac-clothed moments
retained within the stitches of
a cotton-polyester blend.
Simple fabric now consoling me
from my mind's wanderings to you.
Straws
I am desperate,
grasping at straws.
Feverishly I reach,
clawing into the acrid air
attempting to salvage
anything I can.
Yet I come back empty.
My hands holding hard
onto absolutely nothing.
Shifted
As the space grew between us I found myself missing you... mourning you... grieving you. But over time my sorrow shifted into anger and I was left trying to remember why I was ever upset in the first place.
The Last
I like to think that you think about me too, but deep down I know I am the last person on your mind when you go to sleep at night. You rest soundly, while I struggle to close my eyes.
Wanted
Even if everything you said
in those moments were lies,
please never tell me that
your words were not real.
Let me move on believing that
I was all you had ever wanted.
Stopped
If we stopped, where would we go from here? Would we be complacent as we watched our lives be stripped down to normalcy? Would we scream inside ourselves as the cravings for more consumed us? Or would we cower... fearful of being led back to where we were always meant to go.
Someday
Someday I won't be here and I'll exist only in your memory. You'll be here, surviving, picking up the pieces of everything I left behind. You'll remain stoic, with your head held high, as you remind yourself to stay strong. You'll be sad as grief dehisces your delicate wounds each time they begin to close. But eventually you'll move on, and that'll be okay... Knowing we'll meet again in the end someday.
AO Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.