A Fucking Poem

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It's funny.

Ha

For someone who doesn't believe that you can claim others as "yours"

Just how many belong to you,

The boy with eyes always lit up. 

And I'm but one of them,

But I'm different;

I've seen the dimmer side.

 

You've found the one.

At least I hope she isn't the weekly chase.

She isn't so naive, so blind 

Her eyes are full of purpose, and her soul, 

I'm sure,

Is made of endless potential.

-we talked about eyes-

And we also spoke of passion,

That girl and I!

And that's all I have for you!

Is an endless love for the boy:

Who's melodic laugh sends me reeling,

Who's smile makes even I, feel infinite, limitless,

Who, when you say that it will all be alright, it actually works...

 

Not anymore!

Because you're running off, with her, into a metaphorical sunset

That dims into a sulky twilight.

Leaving me in chains of old memories and promises I wish I never would have made.

And even that dims,

Into 3 a.m.,

A time to miss people who don't miss you!

You know what I don't miss?

Flashbacks, Insomnia and Cuts in my skin.

 

I think about you a lot.

You now, are the painful seconds that make want to feel a blade against my skin if only to forget,

For just a simple second.

But I don't.

You can strip me, inspect me, see that I still love you enough to keep that fucking promise.

Here I sit instead, writing,

This Fucking Poem.

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