What am I suppose to do
With this notebook filled of half-done drawings
And scribblings and half-recited quotes

I've filled over one third of it
with you
And all I'm left with is a bunch of pages
Reminders of you
And who I hoped you were
The pages are etched with erased mistakes
I could never quite draw your nose
I could never trace the shape of your lips
I could never find the right words or songs to explain how I felt

I couldn't get your nose right because I was thinking of your mouth
And I couldn't trace the shape of your lips
Because I was too preoccupied with the thought
Of how they would fit, pressed against mine.
And I couldn't finish those sentences
Because no combination of the 26 letters in our alphabet
Could ever explain the feeling of the butterflies you gave me
Or the beautiful melody in my ear that was your laugh

So now I'm left with these pages
This notebook full of reminders
Of who I hoped you were
These pages are etched with erased mistakes
Of unfinished pieces

And my heart is etched with the un-erasable mistake
Of ever hoping you could love me.
Over one third of myself, entirely.
Wasted

-k.m.

there are remnants of you
everywhere i go
and a minute does not pass
without pestering thoughts
of what we were

you are the songs we both loved
and how my eyes still tear up
when i hear them on the radio
and you are the reason why
i choose to sit in silence now

you are the unfinished love note
that burns holes in my pockets,
the one i have patiently waited
five months to send
but you are also the reason why
i cannot bring myself to finish it

he takes me in
with a long drag
while he lights me up
and just when
i'm on fire
he puts me out
with his sole
and leaves me
smoldering
next to his empty
beer bottle.