Pen and pencil residue Scribbled across a crumpled page My words His words Yours What do they all mean? Still they make me feel things Tears staining old papers Not sure where these thoughts come from It's been a long time now Though it feels like just yesterday These empty vibrations we put out back then Still find a way to reach me now This sting will last an eternity Unless I throw it all away And let the memories fade
maybe i want you to find my notebooks someday so that you can read all about my pain that i kept stashed and stored and hidden behind my pen and the countless ink stains on my hands my pain that i wanted to speak to you about yet never could so here are my last words, they always didn't come so easy to write i grew restless, exhausted, and i just wanted you to look into my eyes instead i held base, behind these scribbled lines
i have these notebooks they're nothing truly special red, green, and black 70 sheets of college ruled paper (less than that from torn out pages) battered and worn months of wear and tear but they hold so much value to me pages of thoughts scribbled out some pages half torn to-do lists that were never completed poems that are half completed notes of poems that could be random thoughts throughout the day a song that i heard and liked it's just random notes thoughts that were filling my head thoughts i had to get out there's so many things i can share and someday, i will but now i'll leave you with this poem
Every time I begin to miss you I start to write so far I have 5 notebooks full and I can recount every line on the palm of your hand but I don't remember the sound of your voice and some things are too hard to put into words please make this pain stop I'm wasting my time writing for someone who has no desire to be written about and that is a disgrace to the art and a waste of words.
When he asked me to draw something I made little flowers at the corners of pages and when I grew up they bloomed all over my notebooks, today I pick them up one by one, look through the pages to see him and the evenings humming birds sang on its branches.