Am I supposed to believe that this time it is really you?
Standing there, looking at me the way you always used to?
I want to give in to the temptation of blissful ignorance
And live in this moment, with no thought of disappointment or consequence
But I won’t allow myself, like so many times before
It is time I accept that you are not here anymore
It’s not enough only reliving our moments in my memories
Knowing that you are not here to experience them with me
So this will be the last time I dream of you
The last time I see you
What has become of me?
Depending on this fallacy so pathetically
I need to do this for me.
I am so sorry.

I can’t do it, I won’t let go.
I don’t care if I’m weak. I don’t want to be alone.
Surely having you like this is better than not at all
Your perfect reflection, never changing, so beautiful
I cannot feel your touch, but I can feel your presence
The closest I will ever have to our previous existence.
And if that’s all there is, then that is enough
I can’t give up on this, I won’t give up on your love
You said you would never leave, and I said I wouldn’t too
I don’t want to grieve, I need to keep hold of you

But for now, it’s time to wake up
I can once again bear to go through this temporary break up
Things all of a sudden aren’t as bad as what they once seemed
Thank you for staying, I will see you next in my dreams

You have an addiction
Not of any substance
But of some other affliction
Where you burrow yourself into a pit of self pity
And bathe in your own anxiety and misery
You expect the world to listen to your woes
But then refuse to accept the help that others bestow
For no one could ever possibly understand
What you are experiencing in your mind first hand
But I am beginning to realise that you enjoy the idea
Of feeling as if your life is uniquely unfair
You say the hand you are dealt is all there is
That you have no say in your own happiness
But what sort of life can we hope for if that is true?
Do you not want me to at least try to help you?
I am done bearing the weight of your unhappiness
Done with this never-ending bombardment of constant sadness
It’s time I let you go
Time to let you figure this out on your own
I hope one day you accept the help you need
But until then, I must protect me.

The beautiful thing about poetry
Is that it doesn’t matter if anyone else enjoys reading it
I’m writing this for me
Not for you
And I feel better for it

But if my words
Bring joy to another
Then I suppose
That isn’t such a bad thing

There is something worse than feeling sadness
And that is feeling nothing at all

If you were expecting violets and roses
Or a piece like something Shakespeare composes
Then I'm afraid I am not one of those guys

For I will never be one to say
I compare thee to a summer's day
And for that I can only apologise

But I will say this
As I reminisce
About how we met all those years ago

There is no one I enjoy,
more to annoy,
than you, my beautiful potato

They were here, and now they're gone.
It's too late.
You've missed them.

The guilt of missed meetings,
angry words,
mistakes and mistreating.
Are in the past where they will always belong.
Without a chance to make amends.

And then,
soon enough,
we go back to our usual ways.
Not seeing that we are doing the same again.
Until it's too late.