Unspoken Tales

xxiv.

//

It's 2 a.m in the night,
While you peacefully lay in bed,
Dreaming of someone who isn't me,
I sit here with our memories, lingering past the walls of something we called home.

Your promises are the ghosts baby,
They're haunting away the feelings,
Running round and round in the city of my heart.

And as I sit here by the fire place,
Trying to keep me warm,
Now that you're presence is gone,
I realise I am over you.

I swear to my heart,
I am over you.

And even as I sit by the coffee table,
Writing poetry about you.
While the world is at peace,
My mind is fighting the urge to rip my heart off.
And you know what?

I am broken.

I can feel it.
Physically, and metally.

And you know what?

I still swear I am over you.

But what's ironic,
Is heartbreaks aren't pretty,
Like the thousands of poetry
Written by broken souls,
Night to dawn

It isn't just writing poetry,
It is breaking down in the middle of the road,
It is crying out loud with no one to hear you,
It is lying in bed broken like shattered glass.

And even though I feel all of those things,
I won't deny
I still think of your golden brown eyes,
And as they stared into mine
I remember
The tingling that ran down my spine.

I think about your smile,
And the crinkle by your eye,
And how it crept through me,
Like the little sunshine in a clouded sky.

I think about your hands,
As they held mine perfectly,
Like I was too cold and you were on fire,
just to warm me.

I think about the nights,
We stared at the stars,
And you told me your fears,
The fear of losing the one you loved.

And even though sometimes my eyes search for you,
And even though it freaking hurts to watch you look at her,
The way you looked at me,
I am still over you.

And I am over you,
Even if I laugh the loudest around you,
And even if I find myself hopelessly dreaming about you,
Awake or asleep.

Or maybe,
You've gotten me used to
living in lies.

//