our love was an hourglass.
time was always ticking and always is
but with you time seemed to slow down
you made me forget about our "time limit"
and you made me believe the sand would fall for eternity
however the hourglass was still there counting down until you had to move,
until my heart had to shatter into a million pieces.
I knew that day was coming eventually,
I was just in denial
because no one taught me that there's no such thing as a "happy ending"
our time became shorter and I began to worry.
I knew our time together was coming to a close
when the sand in the hourglass faded, so did you.
and on that day when the sand stopped I knew I hadn't cherished you enough
for it was your leaving day,
the day you packed your bags, hopped in the moving van and never looked back.
and even though the hourglass stopped running, it never ran out.
because you can never get rid of the sand in an hourglass.
and even though you left, I could never truly get rid of you. you were the sand, trapped, without an escape, forced to keep tumbling through my mind.
now the "sand" in the hourglass represents my heart, shattered and torn.
the pieces shift as memories of us collide.
and I have no control of when the hourglass gets flipped over again.
nor can I control when flashbacks of us come flooding in like a hurricane.
I just do my best to build a dam, and hold everything back.
eventually, our hourglass came to a stop.
and I ran out of energy to keep up with you.
you were the effortless sand, falling wherever gravity took you.
but once you left I became lonely
I was the empty side of the hourglass
I could still see you, and I still loved you
but there was nothing I could do about it.
you just let the pieces fall where they may,
while I tried to put my own pieces back together
but I looked like an idiot because something was missing from all those pieces.
and that something was you.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
your name echoes in my thoughts.
bright lights spell it out
racing, my mind can't stop
you're all I've ever asked for
craving your response
evidently my heart beats a little faster when you're near
night turns to day and you're still here.
we aren't perfect,
more like a shifting puzzle.
we have our turning points,
better times.
other days I wish I hadn't woken up for,
but in the end
we make an exquisite masterpiece.
some people admire our artwork,
others only find its flaws.
but what are flaws?
peoples definitions of imperfect?
because "imperfection" is just an opinion.
however, one day you decided art wasn't your forte.
our painting was no longer on display.
it fell off the wall
the painting broke along with my heart.
it left scars and imperfections on the wall.
without the painting, the wall looked bare.
the wall lacked character.
now when people see the painting they just shrug thinking about what it used to be.
however I am the painting.
a jumble of colors thrown together in attempt to make something beautiful.
I was just hung up until a better painting came along.
then I came crashing down
and thrown into the pile of unwanted art work
only looked at according to my flaws.
longing for my pieces to be put back together.
but how could a broken painting ever compare to a brand new one?
it can't.
but that "shiny" painting won't last.
it's only for looks
as for me, look deeper.
because when you aimlessly try to put the pieces back together
there's always something missing.
and that something is you.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC