This is my last time writing about you--
I promise--
I'm sure.
I feel you seeping from my chest through the ink
Evaporating as it dries.
You were a love of mine--
Something of the sort--
But as it boils down
You were a friend more than anything.
I have a hard time blocking my emotions when people notice me.
Any attention
Any kindness
It's all love in my mind.
Because what else would show attention to me?
But this poem is about you--
Not me--
So I'll start by saying you're lovely.
Not in appearance alone
But a lovely human being
With a sole way of thinking.
And while it may annoy me here and there
It's apart of you.
Apart of the things I loved.
In the simplest of words
I loved that you were dumb--
In the nicest way possible.
But I'm moving on.
Leaving behind an unhealthy infatuation.
Which leached on all my happiness to feed
The world war inside me.
Battling to misinterpret obvious rejections
And suffocating misreads
Never letting myself breathe.
Perhaps these poems all along were about me.
It was never your words on the page--
Never your vision--
Never really you.
Just what I wanted to paint in my fantastical worlds
Where you could be everything I wanted
Because you were the closest.
Here you are.
Finally encapsulated.
True form
A friend--
A stranger--
It's time to let you go.
And I'll finally be free.
Goodbye You
Love Me
