do you remember our first date?
do you remember that Saturday?
“why am I here?”
“why’re you kissing me?”
at the same time
in the same place
sharing the same space
the kisses in the library
your hands holding mine
the book you gave me
the notebook with our lines
do you remember my first “I like you”?
do you remember our black notebook?
the one with love words
a dead woman's dedications
and the short story of us
sweet chords on guitar
the jokes in the stairs
the way I shared my heart
the cuddles we craved
through all the possibilities
or the burned brain for planning
go and travel the seven seas
and buy your stairway to heaven
I am not the same,
I don't care if you are
I'm not the mess from before
now you lost all of my art.
YOU ARE READING
Édith's Bad Poetry
PoetryI'm a poet, but I don't see my art transcending to the world. I don't even see it as art. It was just a form of self-expression while I was through horrible things. But I've grown up and I'm not the same, and so isn't these rhymes. I still wanted to...
