my heart stops beating
when its getting late
and the ghost of you
runs your fingers up my spine
the way i used to love.
my chest stops heaving
when i remember your face
and the rise and fall
of the moon seems to go by faster
when im not thinking about you.
my fingers stop typing
when i imagine myself
with all that i have
and all that i have lost,
when the world stops hurting
but it never really does anyway
or at least not when im alone.
my eyes stop blinking
when i dont hear your voice
and the hours stop passing
and the clock stops ticking
and i am no longer aware of anything
and i pray there is something else where im headed next
all of this
death, i suppose one would call it
place a rose in my hands and kiss me goodbye one last time the day i stop loving you because that
is how you know im dead.
not all of the other stuff i said.
my body may give out
and my brain may never stop screaming and wailing for you to come back and
my legs may not walk
and my veins may run dry
but
the day i stop loving you
is the day i truly die.
i suppose, then,
you could call me immortal
maybe eternal
i dont want to live forever
YOU ARE READING
idk if i can call this poetry
Poetrybook 2 this started out as just writing down my thoughts. poems, quotes and other random stuff. thats what this was supposed to be. instead, it had become a diary. a journal, almost. this is long lost lovers. this is heartbreak. this is one s...
