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473 · May 2014
Swimming Lessons
Jordyn Stevens May 2014
You can't rekindle a flame that isn't there,
Just like you can't draw oxygen out of a tank with no air.
In the ocean of life I don't hope that you sink;
I won't lock chains or anchors to your feet.
You've done that yourself and you're already drowning,
Clutching on to everything and everyone surrounding
In hopes of getting back to the surface
Though we both know you will never achieve nor earn it.
In those endless blue waves you will slowly suffocate,
But I will not extend my hand or come to your aid.
Because you rushed and made what you thought was an escape
Leaving only destruction in your maleficent wake.
And little did you know that as you left me shipwrecked and torn,
I taught myself to swim, and I paddled to the shore.
299 · May 2014
Aftermath
Jordyn Stevens May 2014
And as if a vase of wilting flowers fell off a table,
We shattered.
Each push shoving us closer to the edge
Until we finally toppled over;
3,
2,
1,
Impact.
The shards of what was, what is, and what should have been
Cut wounds into my fingertips
As I tried to pick them up
And piece them back together.
But when the jagged, mangled pieces would no longer fit in their places
Or form what they once were,
I instead placed them like a painting on my wall,
To be looked at, and remembered;
Not to be thrown in the garbage,
But not to become what they used to be, either.

— The End —