This is not a poem.
ㅡ
What I'm seeing now reminds me of the past.
You trying to show off things using your guitar. You trying to look cool in front of me. You making me smile. You igniting the existing spark in my heart. You making me fall for all of the bits and pieces of you.
Me listening to your music. Me admiring how you pluck the strings of your guitar. Me daydreaming of us. Me biting the insides of my lip to conceal how my system was burning when my eyes caught a glimpse of your hazelnut brown eyes.
It was you. Me. Us. Locked in our own dimensions right at the back portion of our classroom.
But then it vanished. All of a sudden.
And now you're with her. With somebody else. With someone that's not me.
And it all brings me back to what happened before. When it was still the two of us. When nobody barged in. When I was in love. When I thought you were.
Now, you're happy. She's happy. Both of you are. And that reminds me of us. Of the past.
Who's your next victim?
ㅡ11.28.2014
YOU ARE READING
Au Revoir
PoetryJe t'aime et au revoir. A collection of poems. ©shattereddamsel 2014