my poems. nd shits?

Memory.

✶ Memory.
-acb.

i can turn you into poetry,
but i cannot make you love me.

There you are,
Still in my head,
painfully exisiting
while I lay in my bed.

The worst part of you,
At this very moment,
As I stare into nothingness,
Is that I remember you.

The worst part of love is
that i remember it. That I remember you.

I walk around all day thinking:
Am I just an experience to you?
A memory that is fading, slowly, but surely,
Because if that is so, then I am a fool.

While I; an experience,
You were my everything.

You will never be just a memory to me, you will never be just an experience to me, and most of all, you will never be just a fleeting dream. I cannot stop thinking you. The way I think of you boderlines obsessive, though I know it's not, you are more special to me that just an obsession. How could I tarnish what we had with just a mere fixation? I cannot forget you, and I do not want to, because no matter how much time passes, no matter how the leaves grow from the harsh wind, falls into ground, and inevitably rots from the unrelenting time, you will still remain a fresh memory, a fresh wound that I do not want to heal nor tend to. Because even if we are not that anymore, we once was, and that will forever be something that I cherish so.

And it hurts me so to catch you forgeting me.

.