May 2014
Don’t throw away the poems the poems I write
I know they won’t matter. Not after tonight
Maybe for a little while, rereading them will hurt.
But eventually, my words will be meaningful as dirt
You won’t even hear my voice whispering each word
In your head. It'll be some other voice that is heard
Don’t throw them away okay? Don’t throw away me
Don't throw away all that we used to be.
I know they won’t matter. Not after tonight
Maybe for a little while, rereading them will hurt.
But eventually, my words will be meaningful as dirt
You won’t even hear my voice whispering each word
In your head. It'll be some other voice that is heard
Don’t throw them away okay? Don’t throw away me
Don't throw away all that we used to be.
It's not about me, it's about something one of my friends said. I just reworded it to fit how I would feel in a similar situation. This reminded me of burning things in a fire.... I bet that hurt too. I'm sorry
