the inevitable

*thirty-six

i'm living in a fever dream.
my once muddy footprints,
dried and caked into the earth.
the grooves, barely pronounced,
although their presence stuck
out just the same.
how could i have forgotten the scars
that i have so tenderly tried to heal?
when did i stop telling myself
the warnings i have ever so kept tidy?
little did i know that the words
made from the sharpest of fragments,
would remind me of the hurt.
that hurt so far away, i can barely remember.
i've failed to stay vigilant,
opting to bury what didn't need to be seen.
but with my roots all dug up,
i've been spinning unable
to grab hold of the shovel.
my one wish, being you think of me again.
maybe then i can remember
my side of the story
the one who
sat in your notifications
your classrooms
your halls.
my eyes kept a lookout for you,
as soon as i could.
why has it always been so one sided?
couldn't i become clairvoyant?
I believed your story so eagerly,
ignoring all of the words i've spilled.
maybe then i'll have
the piece that makes me whole again.
maybe then i won't be lost
in what i cannot recall.
there hasn't been a slight
bit of effort in your bones for me.
It's almost humorous of me to think
that could ever change in my favor.