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dociledoodooheadPoems
I’ve been trying to write a poem for you, and failing Flowery words and sentimentality Fall short I miss you so much I miss looking down into your big brown eyes And smelling your shampoo Which would become our shampoo And kissing you I wish you were still sobbing into my chest, Soaking my shirt with tears I wish we spent less time being scared I knew I loved you For so long Before I said it I knew it at the barrier of Enogra, on the rocks at Cedar Creek And in my living room At your feet Crying over a movie that most of our friends wouldn’t even like Remember that Easter weekend When we watched the sky Waiting for a shooting star I wish I convinced you to lie there a little longer I wish we had seen one Maybe we just weren’t sick of each other yet Maybe nothing lasts forever anyway And I wouldn’t ask you to uproot your life for me But I’d give so much for another hour Just to hear your problems Your ****** day What you had for lunch What happened at work Last night you were in my dream For the first time in months You were back only for a weekend We just sat together on the couch We just did nothing We didn’t even kiss I hate myself for waking up How’s the weather in London? Just kidding I know it’s **** I’m sorry to tell you so many things you already know I would’ve kept this private But god know’s if you’d ever hear it otherwise I love you too much to ever shut up about it And I’m still missing you Obviously I keep thinking of that Leonard Cohen poem Darling, I now have a butter dish that’s shaped like a cow It seemed silly when I first read it. But now I understand. I’d do anything to tell you about my silly butter dish. How I got cut off on the way to work. What the last thing that made me laugh was. All that ******** But you’re not here So I’ll tell the walls about all the moments we shared Regale them with stories of us, To spare my friends the boredom I’ll journal all your favourite things I’ll keep your old clothes, And if we don’t speak again, I’ll leave them with your parents. I’ll return that 600-page book too; it’ll only take me a week to read. I’ll stay in touch with your friends, so they can let me know you’re happy - I’ll only move on, so that you can too. But there is nothing I could ever be bitter about. You were it. Thank you.
0
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 4:25 PM UTC
It's Impossible
I’ve been trying to write a poem for you, and failing Flowery words and sentimentality Fall short I miss you so much I miss looking down into your big brown eyes And smelling your shampoo Which would become our shampoo And kissing you I wish you were still sobbing into my chest, Soaking my shirt with tears I wish we spent less time being scared I knew I loved you For so long Before I said it I knew it at the barrier of Enogra, on the rocks at Cedar Creek And in my living room At your feet Crying over a movie that most of our friends wouldn’t even like Remember that Easter weekend When we watched the sky Waiting for a shooting star I wish I convinced you to lie there a little longer I wish we had seen one Maybe we just weren’t sick of each other yet Maybe nothing lasts forever anyway And I wouldn’t ask you to uproot your life for me But I’d give so much for another hour Just to hear your problems Your ****** day What you had for lunch What happened at work Last night you were in my dream For the first time in months You were back only for a weekend We just sat together on the couch We just did nothing We didn’t even kiss I hate myself for waking up How’s the weather in London? Just kidding I know it’s **** I’m sorry to tell you so many things you already know I would’ve kept this private But god know’s if you’d ever hear it otherwise I love you too much to ever shut up about it And I’m still missing you Obviously I keep thinking of that Leonard Cohen poem Darling, I now have a butter dish that’s shaped like a cow It seemed silly when I first read it. But now I understand. I’d do anything to tell you about my silly butter dish. How I got cut off on the way to work. What the last thing that made me laugh was. All that ******** But you’re not here So I’ll tell the walls about all the moments we shared Regale them with stories of us, To spare my friends the boredom I’ll journal all your favourite things I’ll keep your old clothes, And if we don’t speak again, I’ll leave them with your parents. I’ll return that 600-page book too; it’ll only take me a week to read. I’ll stay in touch with your friends, so they can let me know you’re happy - I’ll only move on, so that you can too. But there is nothing I could ever be bitter about. You were it. Thank you.
dociledoodoohead
Written by
dociledoodoohead
24/M/Brisbane, Australia
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 4:25 PM UTC
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