you filled my lungs
with a magic you
had called love,
but you gave
no warning
that the aftermath
would leave me
so fragmented.
my heavily lidded eyes
drip with
memory-soaked agony
that paints the space
below them
black and blue
with the promise that
if insomnia doesn't take you
i will be back to collect you.
it's been four whole months
and i do not think
you're coming back,
yet my mind
is hesitant to forget
my times with you;
the art of forgetting
terrifies me
but also somehow
gives me a hope
that things
get better
once your face
evaporates from
the pauses
in my poetry
and i can no longer
feel your fingers
between my thighs
and in the spaces
between mine.
i don't know
if i'd rather get lost
inside of you,
or forget the way
your eyes smiled
before the curve
ever hit your lips.
im not sure
forgetting
would bring
the happiness
you were supposed to,
or rather an
impending sadness
my bones may not
be primed to heave.
im not sure im ready
to forget,
but im not sure
im willing to
love you much longer
either.
YOU ARE READING
this ones for you
Poëzieoh, you know who you are ♕ all my poetry, give credit if used !! disclaimer: i do not self harm and am in no way romanticizing it, depression, or any other mental disorder mentioned. they are horrible mental diseases no fun to fall victim to. trigg...
