i.
Sometimes when I miss you, I write
stories of love and redemption
of long journeys and leaving the past behind
Sometimes when I miss you, I dance
alone in my kitchen to a country song
just because it reminds me of you
ii.
I remember how you swept me in your arms
at the end you kissed my clasped fingers and
my trembling hand collided with your jaw
You caught me off guard
But I think that’s the first signal
of being drawn to love
Not a fall, but a quiet nudge
a stirring deep, buried beneath
rationalities and he’s-not-right-for-me
iii.
I remember the now-forsaken bench
how we sat under the trees, and
you whispered of your abandoned innocence
And how you’d tell me
you felt empty, and I’d silently plead
to be the one who fills that void
iv.
They told me I should forget
I shouldn’t get my hands dirty
running around with a maverick like you
Instead I listened to the echoes
reverberating deep in the chambers of your heart,
I traced the muddy tracks on your trampled spirit
v.
Your words, like a deafening waterfall
wavering in and out of demanded existence and blended surroundings
Why is your voice the loudest when I must profess your evanescence?
If not for others, then myself and you
I feign platonic indifference, and hold onto the bittersweet hope
that maybe your fingerprints will fade with time
Points: 581
Reviews: 3
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