“you can’t recreate the past,” is what nick told gatsby with a sincere look.
gatsby only rolled his eyes, which should have given away the ending of the book.
in fiction, more often than not, the ones who break the rules get punished.
my life, albeit nonfiction, followed this rule to the syllable.
it might have been my party, but i was not the one to run it.

it’s sometimes easy to see the world in that sort of way.
rose-colored nostalgia paints red skies out of the ones of gray.
although red is danger, red is violent and red is fear —
i’d gladly take that and replace the monochromatic world you escaped when you left me standing here.

you were scared, and you ran off with the first easy way out you could find.
saw the black photos of you dressed in white and it made my throat clench because
in all actuality, the fault is all mine.
people like you never want to work for what’s good.
you can party, sway and sing all night but you crawl out while being chased by the orange-yellow-redness of the crack of dawn

green always was your favorite,
but now, is it brown?
(she’s a beautiful girl, but she has no business running away with angels).
i bet being with her is easier, less painful but it can’t turn your word upside down.
(not the same way that i did. god, do you even remember? were we ever that young and innocent?).

you were.
i never was.
i try to ignore the irony,
but i still think of you and my mind gets filled with a fuzz.

you were born to run and never look back, but you curse those that you enchant.

i know it’s no way to live, and that i shouldn’t cry in the darkness of the night anymore.
i’ve got all the world in the palm of my hand, but if you looked back just once, i’d throw it out to sea
like it was a rock i found on the shore.

i’ll be sure to throw better parties, inviting my real friends instead of the likes of you.
i don’t want to be so punch-drunk that i miss the one thing i have waited around for — i’ve taken those rose-colored glasses off, too.

i deleted your number from my phone,
although i know you weren’t going to call
tell me, july princess, do you remember
the nights when we had it all?
we sat on the couch, love in our lungs
and tried to write each other’s futures
in promises, parties and sparklers?
i’m trying to accept that it’s gone
and all the promises now empty
i know why you left and when you did,
for empty is how you left me
but i lived a good life without you before
so i will pick myself up from off the blood-stained floor

now i listen to happy songs
and know i’m better off without
our love should have been your temple
and you should have been more devout
you told me you got rid of my poems
and dear, it made me laugh.
there are millions more where that came from
each one better than the last.
you’re gone — you don’t have to tell me
so am i — no need to sell me
the color of your eyes used to be my favorite shade of blue
but now i see the sky, the water, the waves all like they’re brand new
I hope you don’t do what you did to me, to her
then again, she stood by idly, without a single word
so good bye, sweet love, my summer sunshine girl
our love was once gold, but nothing gold can stay and i’m reclaiming my world