poetry

Phone calls.

I'm still hung up over her words,
Eternally.
I will never get over her laughters of my drunken words, or the way she'd pause as I'd talk about the sky.
The way she'd repeat phrases that I said I liked, because I couldn't escape the clutch of her bittersweet voice.

"Go to sleep honey." She said to me,
I remembered it well,
so well I still mutter it to myself,
I can't sleep like before,
the only easy rest I had was with her.

I remember drunkenly replying that evening to her with a stupid laugh and a slurred no,
which she sighed at,
it was a stupid time all I could remember and I knew she needed sleep,
but her voice leaving my ears was a nightmare to me.

That phone call lasted hours.

That phone call rips at my heart—it hurts.
I feel physically sick listening back to her voice notes
I wonder where she is in life now,
if she got into the collage,
if all the promises she made me she'll make definite to her girlfriend,
if she'll still remember what talks we had the first night we spoke.

I'll write about you forever, yes I'll write about anything and you know that,
but you are forever going to be the thing I can't forget about,
I hate myself for it I always will,
it's a feeling I have to sleep with at night wondering what I did wrong,

why I keep searching for you in other souls,
why I keep wondering why everyone's speaking gibberish at me when you spoke.

"—I love the way you speak, I feel like we're speaking a whole new language."

It fucking cuts up my soul, I can't fully rip your name out of my mouth yet,
it's stuck there like glue,
the throbbing feeling of you moving on so quickly and I'm just stuck.

It echoed that night,
the night you said you liked me more than you should of, the night were—stupid me
thought we had a chance,
that you'd keep your promise,
that id come stay up in London with you,
meet your sister,
go to places.

I hang onto this poem to more than any one I had,
Any poem I'd written for the sake of writing or if it did have a raw meaning,
This one is more of a suicide letter for the way my soul was with you,
It hurts like that anyway—
Every time i go to type your name I stop myself,
I stop myself because I know you have no relevance to me anymore.

sincerely,

— H.R.P