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Moosh Nov 2018
I always thought memories would decay with time, but they only seem to become more tangible.

It feels like I'm making a rope with them.

Twisting and braiding them together, gathering them up like twine.

Hanging on every moment, every recollection, every thing about you.

I'm conscious of my folly, my unhealthy obsession. Yet I keep making it.

It is no longer the task of a madman, like it once was, but of one who is quite horribly sane.

And I'm not sure what I'll use it for, but I do know that whatever that is, it does not scare me.
More prose than poetry.
Moosh Oct 2018
A friend said to me
"Do you enjoy torturing yourself?"
I guess I'm a closet *******.
Because I always knew it would hurt,
But I stomach the pain,
All for this horribly wonderful moment of bliss.
To share something so simple,
As a coffee.
Moosh Jul 2018
Sometimes I think if I'll ever have that conversation with you.

I mean, sometimes I wonder if I'll ever even have another conversation with you.

But if I do, I hope it'll be one where you ask the question you shouldn't.

"Do you still love me?"

I replay this scenario over and over and over, going through what I could say.

Whether you'd blush, whether you'd cry. Whether it'll all be okay.

And maybe my words will be like kindling to the fire we once had, a catalyst to an experiment of old.

But it's said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again, expecting different results.

I think I've gone past insanity, I've closed up, I've battened down the hatches and weathered the storms of my psyche.

But I'm not sure if I prefer the emptiness of these open seas, and I think feeling something, is better than feeling nothing.

I am a broken tape of our favourite film, filled with too many memories to just throw away.

Except now, I can only loop the **** part.

Sometimes I think if I'll ever have that conversation with you.

I mean, sometimes I wonder if I'll ever even have another conversation with you.

But if I do, it'll be one where you don't ask the question you should.

"Do you still love me?"
Bit of a longer one, more prose than poetry I'd say. Not sure what I was going for but I hope it reads well.
Moosh Jun 2018
i don't know if it's just me,
but there is a comfort in sadness.
like the embrace of an old friend
it feels, like home.
Moosh Jun 2018
Just as I am drifting off,
I hear your whining in my ear so soft,
Somewhere in my room, aloft.
Please kindly, *******.
As I write this, the time is 3am (GMT), my sanity is slowly draining. Supplies are running low, they've already taken Ted, I'm next, of that I am sure, if you're rea-
Moosh Jun 2018
When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.

How very cliché.

Yet is it my fault?
Is it my fault I cannot control the muffled musings of a
subconscious I have tried so hard to suppress?
Is it a fruitless task to explore the what if's,
the why's, the could have's?
Is it wrong to hold on?

When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.
You were always the puzzle that I was more
than happy to help complete.
Even if that meant giving up parts of me.
Moosh Jun 2018
It's not you, I whisper to myself,
The smile, the eyes, the hair.
This digitally rendered face, mocks me, smiling.
Locked in a perpetual state of happiness.
It can't be you, because I don't know who you are.
Not anymore at least.
Yet it is too late, you have already left your mark,
Burning in my memory, seared into my soul,
Like a farmer branding his cattle.
You are now but a painful reminder,
That my happiness does not belong to me,
But belonged with you, stuck with your memory.

— The End —