there’s a principle in science that says
if you don’t use it, you lose it,
if a part of your brain goes untouched,
is in no way beneficial to you,
it ceases to exist.

so tell me why i haven’t been able
to shake you out of my mind
when i haven’t seen you in two months,
when you were never really mine
in the first place.
why do you insist on resurfacing
when i’m sure i’ve become
just an afterthought to you.

the home i built for you
should have burned to the ground,
should have remained vacant
after you left,
but instead it continues to overflow
and seems to breathe underneath
its own sagging weight.

my days have been numbered by
the piece of papers holding meaningless words
that i crumple up and toss in the trash,
by the books i’ve gotten my hands on,
by the many coffee cups i’ve held to my lips,
and i can finally dive into prufrock’s words,
feel them encapsulate me,
roll around in my brain and
make themselves at home.
i crave the timelessness that even dickinson
couldn’t have possibly tasted,
the ability to have people to feel something
and connect with my words,
the chance to not feel alone in this world.
my words enter the blank page
without any rhyme or reason
but they help me embody my feelings,
and i pour my heart into my work
with the hope that someone, somewhere is thinking,
i understand what she’s saying.
that’s truly what it’s all about.

i thought that if i did everything i could,
you would no longer occupy a corner
in the garden of my heart,
but now i see that it’s not my decision.

love is a two-way highway,
and you keep emerging like forget-me-nots
in the spring.

i tried digging my fingers into the soil
and ripping you out by your roots,
but all i accomplished was
dirtying my hands
and making even more of a mess
of myself.

this love is programmed to be perennial,
but trust me when i say
that i don’t need you or any other flower
to make my life more beautiful.

cornerstone (noun):
an important quality or feature
on which a particular thing depends
or is based.

you gave me the resolve
that i needed
and the strength
to believe i was worth it.
now my foundation
is crumbling in the spot
you once occupied.
slowly
my rock has turned
to dust
and i’m falling down
to the ground,
back to the place where
you found me
before you built me up,
made me taller than
the other buildings
surrounding me.

i don’t think anyone else
has the right tools
to make me solid again.