I keep writing about you
A lot of people say that my poetry is amazing and I have no idea why they say that
And I think it's because they're all about you, because you're ******* wonderful
But what you don't know and what they have no idea is that
I stare at the ceiling for hours
And my hands can't seem to move
Leaving my pen untouched and just having a blank page
Filled with no words about you or about love
Because all I feel is frustration and disappointment
Maybe I write these things but it actually doesn't come close to how I'm really feeling
But if actions could be expressed into words
I would write about how I should have hugged you for hours and convinced you to stay
How your favourite song just came up the radio, reminding me the first you made me listen to it
I would write about me standing outside the rain near the bus stop, thinking and replaying all the things you said to me, as I hide my tears from the rain
Then I realized I never had you
We were never official
I would write about the burning fire from my heart as it start to burn because of how much I miss you
and how the burning flakes have reached my brain at 3 in the morning thinking about how I miss your voice and how I crave your presence
And then I remember being up so late was only that much fun when you were still around, with our deep talks & late phone calls
I wish every ******* day that you were still here
And I don't know how to end this writing because there is no poetic way to say and describe how I feel so empty and that I just want you back
But what I know is that I'll never let go