the thing about moving on is,
i can't.
you came into my life
when i was a shadow of the person i once was,
filled to the brim
with all the dirty laundry.
you looked past that
and helped me to where i belong.
you healed my broken pieces
better than time ever could.
you filled them with your words
that poured like honey to my ears.
and although now they took you away,
those words still remain
and i don't want to undo what you did,
so i'm going to let them stay;
because you were a godsend angel,
even if that's a huge cliche.
you know what i needed before i did
and you were the one
who brought me back to my right state.
and i know they say once you move on,
things will get better,
but how will they,
when we are no more together?
the thing about moving on is,
it's hard.
i'll have to look past
all the work you did
and give myself a new start,
undo everything you ever strived for
and begin anew,
because you painted me like a canvas
only, then you left me undone.
and now my world can't stop spinning
because it feels like both—
the end and the beginning
and of course,
that leaves me broken and wrong
because who in this world ever cares
about incomplete canvases and broken sculptures
when there are flawless paintings to gaze after?
YOU ARE READING
7 Weeks Without You ✓
PoetryGrief is a five letter word but the turbulence it creates can last as much as five years, maybe even more. 7 Weeks Without You is not a story, but a state. Each week reflects one stage of grief: grief for the death of your loved one. Genre: Poetry ...
