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how do i extinguish these memories
from my messed up mind
so ablaze and so vivid
burning up and eating me alive
you were once the flame to my fire
now i want you to be the ash
that rides the wind
i want those memories to rise up in the night sky and mix with the atmosphere
and i want to forget you
like how you forgot me
one day
when the sunlight
stops playing hide and seek
with the clouds

i will set down my worn out pen
and stop scribbling about you
the tears streaming down my cheeks
will not be for your benefit

someday
as the trees
shed their leaves
the color of the summer sunset

my pen's ink will have dried up
and my sappy poems brown at the edges
i have learned to pick myself up
one discolored piece at a time

as the waves
start to calm
and the tides
start to quiet down

i start scribbling
i start scribbling about happiness
about how the stars are all in place
and how i have taped and colored in
my once shattered heart
do you
ever wonder
if stars
feel unappreciated
unloved?
to the point where
they shrug and say
"no human even
takes time to look"
then with their last
effort to shine and
shimmer
they explode
into gas and dust particles
never to light up
the night sky
again

do
withered flowers
bother you?
what if they longed
to live
to grow
to survive
but just because
of one
wayward human
its petals
fell
its stem
wilted
and its color
faded

what about
the clouds
in the sky
are their drops
of water
a plea for help?
do they tear up
because of all
the unpleasant
chemicals and
vile stenches
we bring?

do you
think that
the wind moans
violently
because it didn't
drift
the way it
wanted to go?

what if
trees
swayed side to side
when they
hear the
beautiful songs
beautiful melodys
of the bluebirds
perched on their
branches

did it cross
your mind
if the sun
and moon
were long time
lovers
but now they
feel loneliness
and despair because
the only time they
meet
is when the sun
sets and
the moon rises

did it ever
occur to you
that if humans
had
feelings
nature could too?
my ribs are doing that jerky
breathing thing again
and im not sure if it's the smell of
your perfume that's suffocating me,
or the replay of memories that are
still creeping into my brain
whispering in my ear "remember.."
pulling on each string of my heart
ripping and tearing it apart

the memories i spend over 15
hours a day trying to shove into the back of my head and forget,
i stupidly keep writing about
with someone who's
comfortable with your silence.
someone who doesn't need words
to understand, or the sound of
your voice to hear you.
someone who admires
your makeupless face and
skinny fingers, along with every
bump and scar that has made your body their home, too.
someone who doesn't see all
your flaws as imperfections,
but simply as more to adore.
someone who doesn't need
your words of permission to
know when to kiss you,
or require your arms stretched
open to know when to hold you.
be with someone who grows you
and allows you to spread
your wings to fly, always trusting
that you will come home.
someone that appreciates who
you are and never lets you give
up on that, pushing you to
succeed in your future even if
they aren't any part of it.
someone who makes even the
toughest of times seem hopeful,
and the problems of the world vanish with just a hold of your hand.
*fall in love with someone
who doesn't just kiss your lips,
but your soul.
i hope you see this.

i don't know what i would want you to feel if you did see this.

anger?

sadness?

pain?

would you even know it was for you?

look,
i don't want to dwell
on the unimportant details,
like who's fault it was,
or who left first.

maybe it was you,
maybe it was me,
maybe it was both of us.

i don't care much.

the important part is that you're gone.

i am gone.

we are gone.

i am not the person i once was, and i doubt you are the person you once were.

whether that's a good or bad thing,
i don't know.

what i do know is that everything is falling.

but whether it's falling into or out of place?

well,
i don't know that either.

(a.m.)
eh, idk.
It's so easy to write about pain
but why write about a dark room
when you have a candle and a match
Just tell them
your poetry
is now for
someone else.
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