Poems are not always about sadness
or the heavy weight of the world.
Poems aren't always about the careless boy,
who broke a young girl's heart
that cold, snowy day.
So I refuse to fill anymore
lines and pages,
with the outline of your name.
I will not waste another
journal page,
on the waves of sadness
you pushed my way.
So I graze my pencil
over the light blue lines,
and try to write about the moon.
How it follows me as I gaze out my window,
but then I remember,
it follows you, too.