Tonight, at this moment, I let go but before I leave onto the street
and meet the moon's smile and hers meets mine, remember,
be wary, though you break the world's heart eventually actions
haunt back three-fold, these wounds you've dabbled in exchange
for names to scribble in a diary someone forgotten gave you, will
clash against that body and burn to never seal, and this name,
these lips, while at sunrise you writhe in pain, won't be pen marks,
they'll be so real, every word to the now, will flood your mind,
and then what was an entertaining time, transformed into regret.
Miniature poem/rant I wrote during Modern Poetry class. Yes, I'm bitter.