"remember what you're fighting for."
but it's so hard when i can't see my own
fists in front of me.
i can feel them, reaching, searching for
something to hold on to.
they look and look and grab and grab at air,
at voids, at shadows.
at nothing.
the only thing my hands can find in the
darkness is eachother.
so i stand, or perhaps i am sinking, holding
onto the single thing i have left,
myself.
♤♤♤
"remember what you're fighting for."
but it's so hard when i can barely remember
your voice.
i think it was beautiful.
i think it once told me that you loved me.
i think.
i miss you and i hope you feel that somehow.
or maybe you'll see it in the sunset of
wherever you've gone to.
you'll see my face in a pink cloud and you'll
remember my eyes and you'll remember
that i am what you used to fight for.
please miss me, too.
and maybe, just maybe, say it out loud one
last time, for me.
♤♤♤
"remember what you're fighting for."
how could i forget?
it is hard and it burns but how could i
forget?
i am fighting for the light.
i am fighting for my future.
i am fighting for a simple afternoon in the
summer,
where perhaps i've read all day.
my mind is somewhere else, but i come
back, just for a moment.
i come back because i realize that my hands,
the ones i was born with, the ones i felt you
leave with, the ones that held me together
when you failed to,
have let go.
and they're not as rough as they used to feel.
and your voice is one i now hear in the
wind.
it is beautiful.
i go back to my reading, and i start a new
chapter.
i can fight for this, i think.
-V
YOU ARE READING
still, none the wiser (poetry)
Poetryi grieve for memories, mostly. ☆☆☆☆ these poems are messy attempts to decipher my feelings about messy things. (also I love criticism, plz be mean <3)