[🎧: I Can't Write One Song That's Not About You - Shawn Mendez]
📎 "I no longer have any written remnants of you."
It was on a New Year's Eve when you sent me a random chat message. You said you had a little drink with friends and that you were a little tipsy. This was two years after you confronted me, and a year after I confessed my old feelings. I thought the conversation was over. I thought we were over.
Still, some few miles away, there you were with your heart once again open, vulnerable to me. At this point you were getting really, really good at catching me off-guard. I was totally emotionally unprepared. I wasn't ready when you asked me for the poems I wrote for you. I didn't expect you'd ever want to read them and so the thought of you asking for it didn't even cross my mind.
So I told you no, but you still insisted. So instead I sent you a random poem, one totally not written for or about you. This shut you up. Guilt immediately surged in me. Here we are again. How come our courage would never align, and our timings were always off. Why can't we ever meet in the middle?
It wasn't true when I told you that I no longer have the poems I wrote for you. I still keep them, and I still keep on writing them. In fact, I'll put one here for the odds. If you ever come across this poem one day, my hope is you recognize that it is for you .
--
IDLE MOMENTS
7:38 pm
07Dec2019
I
am scared of idle moments,
the vacant hours—
they are strong currents
that bring my thoughts to
where you lay in my mind.
And I get scared,
as they are also nosey hands
that constantly try to set free
the duct taped memories of you that I
have long tried hard to tame.
And your memories (!)
the Pandora's box inside of me,
keeps on knocking,
pleading, every time, to be let out;
but I cannot—I'm sorry—open
once again, the raging
memories of you. of us.
Because I'm scared.
I'm scared of the memories
of me when I was with you;
the memories of our little things,
the memories which hold our
old hearts, our old desires
and I'm scared that if
it all replays in my mind,
it would bring me back as well,
to loving you once more.
But even scarier is if it turns out that I
haven't stopped loving you at all, and I
have only been depriving myself
to having more of you, of us.
I'm scared of idle moments,
the vacant hours—
it fills my mind, always,
with regretful thoughts of
you.
— Clandestine
YOU ARE READING
All My Lies
RandomThis is really just a record of all the lies I regret telling, showing, and believing; all the lies that have hurt both of us and our bond; all the lies and what I really meant to say or do for you. Really, I was just writing away the regret of lett...
