I don't see the beauty in remembering.
What is the point?
You'll soon forget.
Earlier, I rode another train of thought,
It passed through another dark tunnel.
Until now, it's still hard to adjust my eyes to the surprising light that came at the end.
I was alone, once again.
Only a few people were riding it.
I remembered someone reading the stickers attached on the windows.
She was beautiful,
For a brief moment, I wished I was her.
But I retracked immediately from that.
I didn't want to be her.
I wanted to be me.
No matter how greasy my hair looked in the morning,
Because someone turned off the AC again
To save electricity.
I wanted to be me.
No matter how sarcastic my smile can get,
I still wanted to be me.
So I stepped out of that train,
Because I couldn't sleep.
But I got pulled to another car,
Messier, more vulnerable,
It's running at top speed,
And I was the driver,
I thought I was going to hit something
Until it stopped.
Only silence remained,
The burr in the darkness,
I was back on my bed,
My eyes on the ceiling that would break apart
If another storm came.
YOU ARE READING
What Love Used To Look Like
Poesía"What Love Used To Look Like" is a collection of short prose, poems, and contemplations about love, hurt, disappointments, and brokenness anyone experiences or has experienced at least once in their short lives. The collection intends to show the di...
