Temporary Fix

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Here I am, at two am, writing this stupid poetry about you to help keep me sane. To get you off of my mind.

See, it's only a temporary fix, and you'll soon come gushing back in my messed up mind again; and I'll write some more.

But soon I'll run out of the right words to say, leaving me silently screaming while you keep rushing through and hovering around; haunting me with your ghostly presence.

If I can't write, I'll resort to reading poems, in the hope I think of someone else, distracting me. Though nine times out of ten, it's always you who finds their way into my head.

But soon, my eyes will grow tired of reading the same old words and I'll sit in silence with tear stained cheeks and stingin eyes as you swarm my mind with those perfectly carved features.

I'll listen to some music, with the happiest songs blasting into my ears, till a sad song then breaks through the playlist on shuffle, and my mind traces its footsteps back to you, as it watches every recorded memory it has kept of you.

Even that's a temporary fix.

Maybe you aren't supposed to leave my mind yet. Maybe you're supposed to stay a while longer, while I try and decide what it is I want and how I feel.

To test how well I can stay stable and sane.
To test how long it will take before I run back to you, or to see if I ever do. To see how strong I am to see you move on with someone else, while I'm stuck with the vinyl record of your soft hush on a loop.

While I'm living in the past, you're thriving through the present...

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