Some days i still love this girl,
I cant stop that ******* whirl;
I have ignored, rebuttled, analysed and rejected,
Any such thought that expelled love suspected,
I have slept, avoided, attacked and awoken,
Yet nothing can succeed in making that entity broken.
It’s not that i love her, in the same way that i did,
but the memory created wont keep on its lid,
and now unequivocally, we are never going to happen,
so i rationalise repeatedly, but the feeling doesn’t lessen.
It changes and it molds;
Reaping the left-behind-cold,
Knowing existing is incorrect,
Knowing it will never actually connect.
Then other days, i dont feel this insurrection.
I cant imagine her even existing in that section.
Yes she is still complicated, wild and free
And in my brain i know we’ll never be,
But it doesn’t disastrously disarm me
Or actually even silence the way i see
Not any more, not so dramatically.
It becomes like a memory,
The happy, the hurt, her heart,
It becomes like a memory,
All that uncertainty at the start
It becomes like a memory,
My refusal to explore the friendship sacrifition
It becomes like a memory,
When I thought I would ever opt into admission
My poetry will keep being written,
The idea came originally from her
And that is something I will take with me,
That’s one thing I know for sure.
I will love her forever,
Not in the same strong way,
but she was my first true love
She’ll be that til the end of my days
Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 7:29 AM UTC