Look at me

be still

like drops of dew

that refuse to fall

into the fresh soil

of the garden where our love once grew

soil that could only remind me

of the color of your eyes

a shade of brown I first discovered

at the foot of your gates

they were yearning for someone to unlock

the potential love story

hidden well in the back of your consciousness

but that was what it was

a story

you walked the fine line

between fantasy and realism

ever so slightly reminding me

that for a dream to come true

you must never lose sight

of the reality surrounding you

measure the differences between the two

noting them on your skin

like engravements on memorials

to the betrothed of the feelings that were

and now aren't

to the joy we once shared in the smallest of details

now passed amongst make believe stories like Bigfoot

and men that want someone for their 'personality'

we are now strangers

no more than we will be

and no less than we ever were

before your eyelashes wrote anthologies

every time they kissed your cheeks

so that I could read centuries of voices

in your quiet

I painted reflections of a better person

until I was unable to forget

what you were

and I wanted to tell you how much I wanted to kiss you

like an elevator

I wanted to stop and go slowly

marking unspoken parts of you that sung symphonies

every time we touched

I kissed your temporary lips

with persistence

and looked into your eyes

knowing they can be blinding

it always seemed like every place I went to

is just another somewhere to remind me

of how much I miss you

because I still remember the day you left

I don't know how much time has passed

all I know is that the snow falls

and the rivers run their course

time goes on and my youth is stripped away

slowly

one layer at a time

gently and all at once

you used to kiss me like that

gently and all at once

and it felt like a flame against my face

warm and tender

sometimes blinding

shaping monuments into my lips

in the form of a long lost love

I used to tell you

I would chop down my own family tree

to make a paper that would tell you

everything you mean to me

but I'd be wasting a time better spent on better things

and by better I don't necessarily mean superior

just different

because I've spent more than enough time on ghosts

and maybe

there's something hopeful about a life of misery

maybe I should keep your side of the bed empty

maybe I should keep my head underwater

with the mentality that hope's middle name

is maybe

and maybe that's a little crazy

but what's crazier is the thought

that you miss me

maybe

maybe not

maybe I held you like I hold my breath when you see me

instantly

instinctively

maybe I didn't know any better

maybe these questions made us fall apart

maybe not

all I know is that I'm done running

I'm done running for your red lips

I'm finished with your red heart

I once heard that to love

is to bury true blood

or maybe I'm confusing things

I overheard some girl saying this in my class

she always talked fast and I'm not exactly feeling great lately

so I might have misunderstood

rethinking this,  she was probably talking about a ******* TV show

****

why do I always think that everything I hear is poem material

I grew a violet

and gave it to you on a rainy day

afterwards I realized what I did

but by then it was too late to say

that I'd killed the flower

just to let another person enjoy

the price a violet had to pay.