Dear You,
I'm sorry for that mess
I dragged you into.
I'm sorry for the way
I treated you after.
You see,
I didn't want this.
Well, maybe,
I did.
I think constantly
about what happened,
and, I'm being honest,
I can't believe it.
All of our relationship
was so real and pure.
It was so perfect
and.. amazing.
Now, I'm missing.
That's it.
No extra wording.
I'm missing.
You know,
when I left,
I left half of myself
with you.
When I left,
I thought, maybe,
things would get
better.
I thought..
and thought..
and thought..
and cried.
The truth is
I missed it;
being free.
But now,
I miss the love.
The actual feeling
that someone
was in love with me.
I don't think
I'd ever felt
that loved
in my life.
And I tore that.
Our love was a
number on a napkin,
a love letter
from an admirer,
the newspaper
in a child's hands.
It sounds perfect,
and it is,
at least for the
smallest seconds
before it isn't.
YOU ARE READING
Where Are My Words?
PoetryMy new poems because my last ones sucked. I went to a slam and was introduced to so many great writers, thought I should start again.
