I lost myself while loving you,
Forgot the things I used to do.
Now in the dark, I softly see—
I don’t miss you,
I just miss me.

in december,
i swore i wouldn’t write
another poem for sean.
said it with a sigh,
maybe even meant it.
i thought,
never again.

but then came january,
quiet and cold,
and somehow he was still
in the smoke of my breath.
a year since we began,
when i fell in love.

february found me
stitching metaphors together
like valentines
i never sent.
february saw the worst of it.

march marched in
with memories and melodies
i played our songs
and called it practice,
but it was always more.

by april,
i was blooming poems
like daffodils,
soft, persistent, yellow with hope.
a year since we ended,
but we grew again during that month.

in may,
every line was him
in some shadowed corner
of what i didn’t know how to say.
we were broken,
but stitched together once more.

and now it’s june.
i’m still writing.
still choosing him
in verse
because i don’t know
how not to.
so much for never again.

once you dig the razor in too deep
you know youve crossed a line
in more ways than one

physically;
youve cut deeper than
you ever have before

and then
mentally;
you cannot go back now

If
              You
                           Do
                                 Not
                                 Believe
                                In
                      God
          Ergo
Jesus
Than
WHY
Do
You
Participate
Celebrate
Religious
Holidays
Christmas
And
Easter?
Ulterior
Motives?


To Get
Gifts.      Free
Stuff

My poem resembles
The Question Mark ?
I called this Word Art
While some people have indicated it can be distracting. I like the challenge of completing the picture.

Inspired song

1) Tell Me Why
The Backstreet Boys 1999

The moon listens,
to the ocean's sigh,
both distant,
yet eternally destined.

neat red lines
stacked in a column
on my upper thigh.
i remember how you
flinched
when you saw them.
it’s disgusting
but it’s me.

it’s the kind of sad
that doesn’t cry loud.
it just sits,
quietly,
in the corners of the room,
curling into the shadows
until even the light
feels heavy.

the kind of sad
where you can’t tell
if you’re tired
or just empty.
if you’re lonely
or just lost.
where music doesn’t help,
but silence hurts more.

it’s the kind of sad
that doesn’t need a reason.
just wakes up with you,
sits beside you on the train,
follows you into class,
and climbs into your bed
before you can even
close your eyes.

it’s the kind of sad
where you drive in the car
and you think you’re okay
until you hear the music
and burst out into tears.
for no reason.

and you want to talk about it.
but what do you say?
“i’m sad,”
like it’s news?
like it hasn’t made
a home in your bones already?
like it hasn’t decorated
your ribs
with every memory
you swore you were over?

it’s the kind of sad
that makes you ache
for people who aren’t coming back,
for versions of yourself
you barely remember.
for a feeling that used to be yours
before everything got
so heavy.

but still,
somehow,
you keep going.
even when it hurts.
especially when it hurts.
and that matters,
even if no one sees it,
though you wish someone would.