I'm looking through old memories of you and me.
Thumbing my way through photographs of simpler times.
I hear you in my own words.
Telling me things I can't tell myself.
Telling me we don't need eachother.
But I know that's not you.
That's me wanting my words to be you.
So I feel a little less guilty for our end.
I know that if I gave you the chance you would come back.
You'd put all of my problems back on your shoulders.
Because that's the type of person you are.
But I don't want you to come back.
I want you to stay away.
Far way.
So I can breathe.
You leave for school soon.
And after that I doubt I'll ever see you again.
Three years.
That was all the time I got with you.
I wish I could have known that three years ago.
I might have changed some things.
Or maybe changed everything all together.
YOU ARE READING
Eden.
PoetryI thought you were Eden. But you were really the snake. Poems about love and loss.
