This is how I realized I'm over you.

I do not miss you anymore.
My soul that used to seek warmth
from your curt, unfeeling replies
now burn with an unwavering flame
fueled by the love I have for myself.
The eyes that used to hold galaxies and hidden universes
are now miles of sand,
a desert in nighttime.
Cold, dangerous, unforgiving.
A warning to stay away
or I will be lost forever.
That smile that makes your face
the brightest thing in the world--
my world--
reminds me of forgotten promises and an empty future.
I do not want any of that.
I do not need any of that.

But I do not hate you.
I hated the nagging silence,
the growing distance,
the poor excuses.
I hated that we fell apart.
But I never hated you.
I never could.
You were my escape
and my time with you had been filled
with fluttering butterflies, days of sunlight, and endless wonders.
For that, I'm thankful.

I'm over you.

I wish there was a way for me to keep my initials out of your mind
I shall continue writing my stories into poetry, and you would be forever
Be haunted by her flashing eyes and beguiling smile until death.

What the devil has joined together, it will stumbled and fall
but every desire has an obstacle in it, and that obstacle was you.
So, do bear in mind that not every pretty face or smile
isn't real, genuine or sincere  

Night haunts and evil lurks in every corner. Like plague it’s...
For a black heart will only find beauty in darkness.

The worst of the initial pain is yet to come, my arch rival and enemy
you seem to have a lot of time to stand and stare at the dark glare;
mysterious abyss of love.

they aren't worth your tears,
your precious time,
your perfect body,
your unconditional love,
your happy smile,
your sleepy face or sleepy voice,
your late night thoughts,
your weird laugh,
or how in love you are with the rain
and that one band, or
how your eyes glow when you sing
or that one shirt you wear way too much,
or how your eyes sparkle when you stare into space

you deserve the world,
my friend

Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers