i write this because i love you.
i do not write this because i desire you or because i would like to call you mine.
i write this simply because i am dispassionately and desperately, hopelessly and wholly, faithfully and fearlessly
infatuated.
eyes like yours were not meant for people like me.
they remind me
of stars
in the hours of dusk i never wake to see.
sometimes i stare at the ceiling at night, trying to make myself believe you were ever real.
i fear one day i will forget what it was like to hold you.
maybe one day i will forget your soft, familiar scent; so i keep your uniform by my bed, neatly folded as you liked, and i hold your hat close to my chest when the nights get lonely, hoping that what's left of you will stay with me forever.
you are not gone.
you are not gone yet.
i will not let go.
i will not let go.
i know you wouldn't have.
sleep well, dearest.
title taken from strange meeting
YOU ARE READING
In Different Skies
PoetryAnd in his eyes The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak In different skies [the titles of the chapters are taken from Owen's poems and i do not own them. some sections aren't poetry and some are written in verse. i write these completely off t...
