In my cocoon of sadness.
I once crawled to you, but you can leave.
I guess you grew out of us and bloomed before me.
Once mixed with a shade of blue
but now there are so many colors on you.
It must be nice to feel free as you fly.
To spread your wings and have your uncertainties beautified.
A work of art, so is it wrong that I keep painting you on every canvas?
I’m staining my memory ‘till I can’t stand it.
A picture's worth a thousand words,
but having them counted hurts.
I guess it’s best that I digress, redirect my pens sadness and settle myself into a happy nest.
I had many cold nights, but the anger that I pent is becoming less.
You should see yourself.
Things only levered south on my end, I need a new compass.
I forget to pretend I don’t remember it being just us.
They’re gone now, those pictures never did you justice.
It’s been a while, but I’m right here where you left us.
You used to love the way I “said things”,
so just know
when you hear me say,
“I write every day”
My mouth just conveyed that your memory remains.
The remnants of my soul still remembers your whole name
because even though
my co-star suddenly became
frightened by the stage,
the
crowd
still
echoed.
Now I’m sick to my stomach,
when it used to be butterflies.