i burn at the touch
of your stained hands
how dare you
in that moment
i forget how to forgive you
i forgive me just to forget you
i was enough
i am enough

i remember how i wished
your hands would be on fire
every time you touch all your lies
your hands brought them
back to life
on me
i forget how to not be a stranger in my own skin
you became a stranger in yours to forget
i was enough
i am enough

in a fleeting moment
i let myself believe
you were homesick
you knocked once
twice
thrice
and then you left
you forget how to try
you try to forget
that i was enough
i am enough

There once was a time
when I'd defend
those eyes.

Every eye is a chasm of beauty, the entirety of the soul.

That was a year ago.
My perspective has changed,
like the sound of your name.
I'm no longer familiar
with those eyes.

I'm scared.

i promise you will never be as beautiful

as you are in the eyes of a poet.


did you ever think

that the curve of your lips

would be worth writing about?


oh god,

that crooked smile

has my pen bleeding ink

faster than i can keep up


did you know that

i’d find inspiration from

the scars on your hands?


tell me,

did you know that

i would write about the way

the light fell on your face that night,

the hair dangling in your face,

your eyes looking more beautiful than

the stars above us?


does it bother you to know

that all of our secrets

make their way

onto paper?


or does it comfort you

knowing that

i can’t forget?


what does it do to you?

knowing that i compare your words

to flowers growing in the bottom of my soul,

the weeds entangling around my heart…


does it bother you that

i’ve turned you into a poem

over and over again?


or does it do nothing at all?

please tell me.

What am I
But a memorization of
Echoes

sadness is an anchor.
it anchors you to the past in which memories circle you, mock you, hurt you.
it anchors you to your bed because it feels so hard to face the day.
it anchors you to the idea of the person you thought you knew, making you wonder if anything was even real.
it anchors you to the broken world that you've built with that person; it's destroyed and you sit in the broken remains in despair.
it anchors you to the thoughts of that person, how the person is doing, if the person prefer the new person better than you, if they are doing the same things, if the person is thinking about you.
it anchors you to the fear that nothing will ever get better, that you might not be able to live because you forgot life before the person.
it anchors you to the uncertainty of the future because you've planned so much but with the inclusion of that person and now you're lost.
it anchors you to your broken dreams, surrounded by the shattered pieces.
it anchors you to the piercing words that person said, things you never imagined them capable of saying.
it anchors you to the ghost of that person.

but never forget that even the strongest anchors are lifted once the ship is ready to move. you'll be ready one day.