I find myself looking for you around in other people,
When I walk past that door, Or, through the places unknown,
I see two people exchanging a glance, or kissing good-byes,
And I think of you a little more, and look at myself with a sigh!

I find you in places I thought I could be alone.
Moments that I thought brought me peace,
movies that I saw to clear my head,
All of these now only causes me distress.

But this is the ***** truth of life,
We'll be together forever was just a lie.
I know I'm broken badly,
It's all gonna be okay,
Gradually it is all going to be fine.

You left me in shock by not giving me any time,
I still can listen to your voice in my head,
And the smell of your skin makes me feel sad,
Future you showed to me, it all feels like a dream,
The only thing being it’s her in it now, and not me.

I keep telling myself these days,
Just give yourself some time,
Sit back, relax and sip the juice of the lime.
I too shall find the peace in my life,
The one that I can perfectly call mine,
But for now, I guess I need to move on,
Why cry for someone who's already gone.

I don’t think about you as much anymore. I don’t feel the same way about you either.
All those feelings that used to cut me to the core seem like distant memories, possibly even as far back as a previous life. I do remember though. Vividly. What it felt like. That white-hot feeling of panic, stemming from the pit of my chest. Followed by the feeling of being cold, so very, very cold. As if you’d stripped me of any and all warmth I ever carried. My light had faded and faded- until it eventually burned out. For a while I was just numb, nothing felt real. It had to be a long-winded nightmare… I was going to wake up any minute and roll over to have you pull me into your arms, reassuring me it was all a dream. It was all in my head, right? I never woke up.

Or at least, I didn’t think I did.

Today I saw a poem that made me realize, maybe I have finally woken up. I don’t think about you as much, and I most certainly don’t feel the same way about you either.

Picking up all the scattered pieces on the floor
It hits so hard this constant burning passion you choose to ignore
Overly tired of feeling like I’m the last resort
Wanting to find paradise, but everything seems all out of sort
Falling for you ever so effortlessly, but my heart doesn’t cross your mind
I feel as if, I surely lost you this time
Though I know that you were never mine
The fact that my absence doesn’t bother you even the slightest makes me wonder if my presence even mattered at all in the first place
As I slowly start to let go of the illusion that things could have been any different my head starts to race
You made me feel like a waste of space

My books are packed.
I held their souls in my very hands.
Now, the shelves howl with darkness.
Hollowed.

I feel empty too.
Neither here nor there.
My life is packed. My books are packed.
The emptiness fills me.

Perhaps, I should take out my books,
Put them on the shelves,
And look at them,
One
Last
Time...

I’m still here
Still standing
Still trying
Falling on my face
Over and over
But I stand back up
I keep going
I’ll get where I need to be
Eventually

I dream of being a child again
The child runs around flying a kite
Yelling and screaming laughter
butterflies in many colours flying by
The child tries to trap them and giggles

If I could just be that child again

none if it was supposed to happen,
no wine spilling
from whosever glass heart
would hold it.
mine shattered, and it poured profusely,
condescension and hatred,
in good measure.

the lies were supposed to rest
on an old, dusty shelf
with books you no longer read,
forlorn, while warmer things
filled your heart.
only now that it's gone,
do you believe yourself the victim,
and pretend to care.
from what remains, no love of any kind
will ever echo for you again.