Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2017
Maybe it's the poet in me
that believes
that after all these years,
and miles,
and songs,
that you might untangle yourself from her arms,
tug on the string I tied to our fingers before you left,
and find your way back
to me.

Your heart
is pulling you across the ocean,
to ports with open arms waiting for you;
and I'm left here wondering
why it wasn't enough
that I would have tore out my rib cage
and made it into a boat
for you to sail yourself there in.

I would wait here,
at this port
that is both where you have been
and where you still are,
until I turned to stone.

It's the poet in me
that can't let you go.
A reflection on things that almost were, what will likely never be, and love of only the slightly requited kind.
Emiline Koljonen
Written by
Emiline Koljonen  20/F/Minnesota, U.S.
(20/F/Minnesota, U.S.)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems