Poetry Burns


In Disenchantment. on December 4, 2012 at 3:03 am

In my memory you’re blurry around the edges.

Your features are softened by the affection that is now just shadows.

Seeing you, it’s not how I remember.

You’re frail.

What happened to you?

Is it you or my memory of you that time has been so cruel to?

I hope I never forget the feeling I had when I turned to you.

Your palm on my thigh, making me cringe.

“What was I thinking, coming here?” I ask myself.

I have to say my peace, then I can leave satisfied.

Whatever you said placated me, I am sure of myself now.

Everything in this life happens for a reason.

Chosing the path I followed, just got me to where I am today.

I am happy writing about your memory.

Content knowing that there will be no future with you.

I hope that you can be as fulfilled as I am one day.

In the past we’ve hurt eachother.

It’s time to grow up.

Maybe one day we will pass on the street, you pushing a stroller and me holding the hand of the one I love.

We can smile and wave, knowing we got where we are with eachother’s help.


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