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Aug 2
You’d ask me what I was thinking,
And every time my answer would be you,
I was thinking about all the ways I could make you smile,
Or I was thinking about how every time you smiled, you got these deep dimples in your cheeks,
Or how even though you hated them,
I could have painted Van Gogh’s Starry Night with your freckles,
I was thinking about how you were such a rebel,
Yet deep down you longed for the domestic…

How you were the jigsaw piece that helped me to solve my eternal puzzle,

You were my very favourite paradox,
So insecure that you could crumble,
Yet you weren’t afraid of anything,

I always thought of you as a mirror of my thoughts,
But maybe you were just two years worth of bad luck...

I was thinking about how kissing you never seemed to get old,
How loving you never seemed to get tiresome,

And now you aren’t mine,
And you’re smiling at some other lover’s texts,

I’m beginning to think that maybe I wasn’t looking for someone to love me,
So much as I was after somebody, some warm human body to lie beside me,
Some heartbeat to synchronize with mine,
So, I could start feeling less alone,
And more alive…

To me, in those moments,
Your warm body,
Your heart beating against mine,
Thudding like a metronome,
That was love,
But it was in fact,
Trying desperately to keep time with the ups and downs of “us “,
The upside-down of us,

I now know why they call it “falling “ in love,
Because it is always up to the other person,
To choose whether to catch you,
Or to just let you keep falling…

I was always there whenever you felt hollow enough to need another body,
To make you whole again,

And I think we both know what happened with us,
How far we both fell…

And now I’m sitting here writing about you,
And I know that you would love this,
You always seemed to love being my “ muse “

This may be about you,
But it is not for you,

This is my version of screaming into the ocean,
This is my escape,
This is my way of letting you go,
Of forgiving you…
And forgiving myself for holding onto you when I knew that I shouldn’t,
And I so hate the fact that I miss you,
But day by day,
I am beginning to forget you,
Your smell,
Your touch,
Your laughter,
It is all but a distant memory,

A faded, jaded polaroid of us kissing in Kimberley Park,
Some faded black and white film of us waltzing to Edith Piaf in your room,

But now you are gone,
And… I am no longer hurting…
B The Poet
Written by
B The Poet  15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?
(15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?)   
   The Duke Of Ear
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