May 2015
a letter to my love who loves someone else
I know that with life cutting corners on your shoulders it is easier to walk away from a game that involves using your hands, the ones that knit blankets to keep me warm, the ones that made sound when I swore I was deaf to every motive except my own
I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble
I know that the word will knock down trees to build skyscrapers, I just only hope you will remember what it felt like to lay under them
I only hope you still think of me when you look up at the sky
I know that perspective is everything and sometimes turning the other cheek molds into shaking your head
I know that I often looked away too much and I am sorry I couldn't bare more drawn out moments of silence with you
My mouth has no safety on it, my mind wanders as if a lost child in a super market, it was hard to fall in love with every piece of you because I was scared of you leaving without taking me with you
I am afraid of the dark, I always have been and will most likely always will be because darkness means uncertainty and I still have a nightlight
I still pretend to be a child
I find myself sunbathing in these memories as a form of prayer
I hung up a picture of you and I on my wall and told everyone it was only for good times sake, something beautiful to look back on, flipping page in the scrapbook, old videos on the home computer
I did not tell them it was because I am pretending that we are still possible
That you will come back here and we can reminisce and play pretend
There are days when I am not sure if I can ever love someone the way I loved you, there are days when I do not want to play pretend with someone else
There is nothing poetic about the way I hopelessly love you
I have learned that poetry loses it's grandeur when you realize there is not a single combinations of words that can make someone love you back
And still, standing on the precipice of an echo, I can almost hear you singing along to the radio, I can almost feel your fingertips on my back like a record playing needle
And I can't help but wonder
Do you still sleep with a light on?
I know that with life cutting corners on your shoulders it is easier to walk away from a game that involves using your hands, the ones that knit blankets to keep me warm, the ones that made sound when I swore I was deaf to every motive except my own
I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble
I know that the word will knock down trees to build skyscrapers, I just only hope you will remember what it felt like to lay under them
I only hope you still think of me when you look up at the sky
I know that perspective is everything and sometimes turning the other cheek molds into shaking your head
I know that I often looked away too much and I am sorry I couldn't bare more drawn out moments of silence with you
My mouth has no safety on it, my mind wanders as if a lost child in a super market, it was hard to fall in love with every piece of you because I was scared of you leaving without taking me with you
I am afraid of the dark, I always have been and will most likely always will be because darkness means uncertainty and I still have a nightlight
I still pretend to be a child
I find myself sunbathing in these memories as a form of prayer
I hung up a picture of you and I on my wall and told everyone it was only for good times sake, something beautiful to look back on, flipping page in the scrapbook, old videos on the home computer
I did not tell them it was because I am pretending that we are still possible
That you will come back here and we can reminisce and play pretend
There are days when I am not sure if I can ever love someone the way I loved you, there are days when I do not want to play pretend with someone else
There is nothing poetic about the way I hopelessly love you
I have learned that poetry loses it's grandeur when you realize there is not a single combinations of words that can make someone love you back
And still, standing on the precipice of an echo, I can almost hear you singing along to the radio, I can almost feel your fingertips on my back like a record playing needle
And I can't help but wonder
Do you still sleep with a light on?
something I wish he would read, but he won't
