He loved me like
He loved he loved
Those action figures
He once played with
When he was a boy

We were both mere objects to him
Allowing him to control our narrative
And dictate our every move

Giving his ragged ego
A stroke or
too many

We taught him
What power felt like

And now he’s unable
To relinquish his hold

I’m afraid to fall in love
Not because of any superficial reasoning
Tied to trust
Or anything else of the sorts

But because I don’t like balance
I prefer my universe to be as shifted
As my point of view in the late hours of the night

I’m afraid that once
I find Stability
Things will start to make sense

And that is simply inappropriate
Because it’s natural

I’ve never been keen on the idea
Of reversing fate
But sometimes I wish
I could go back to the day
In which
all we were able
To visualize was each other

The day
We got lost in each others gaze

Because you no longer
search for me anymore
And now I wish to unsee you
Every time I close my eyes

The anniversary of my birth
Will be celebrated
(or lack thereof)
In 17 days.

I have 17 days
And 17 pages left
To write about

The Things I Lost When I Was 17

We’d talk so long
That we became utterly
Oblivious to the
Concept of time

Conversations about a
Whole lot of nothing
Turned into a great deal
of somethings and so on...

And then
We ran out of things to say

Time was all we had

I write about you still
Not in hopes that one day
You’ll pay attention
And read my chicken scratch
between the invisible lines;

But instead
To commemorate my recollections of you

I never want to feel myself forgetting you
Like I feel you forgetting me

I baptized myself  
In the shower this morning

It sure didn’t help any though

I’m not
Repenting my sins
And I’m
Still too stubborn to ask for forgiveness

It’s like I moisturized myself
With gasoline
And ran into a fire