i imagine leaning on the doorframe
paint peeling, wood cracked
a soft breeze ruffling by my hair
i imagine the tips of your fingers
upon the cold skin of my cheek
as i watch your face intently
i imagine seeing in your autumn gaze
something that would make a wreck of me
and my heart squeezes, maybe
just a little bit bitterly and so does my brow

i look away.
you dissolve like sand through my fingers
into the ever changing wind
and i am by myself
again

have i told you that you have beautiful eyes?
no?
you have beautiful eyes.
i wish i could see them
in front of me.

it was a real pity cause i
set you every trap to care
that you never fell into
but in the end i still got hurt
with the pain i had prepared

guess we never
saw it coming
well, i didnt.
it was an unfortunate
whirlwind of events and
i was left blurred as
a washed out photo
grainy with questions
unanswered, unanswerable

i promised
i would write poetry for you
should you wish for it one day
but i suppose
i will make poetry of you
before i regret it instead

did i love you or
the pain you gave me?
did i love you or the fact
that you were unattainable?
did i love you
or the gentle summer warmth you brought
sweeping into my life
when all i could see was death?

i loved you
the way the sea
loves the cliff
the way falling stars
disappear at the brink of the horizon

do you understand?
i loved you
to my devastation
to my destruction
to vain and
the end
just as the tides break
hugging a cliff
and as the stars
cease to exist
for a glimpse of the world

.

i rub at
the darkened patch
on the knuckle of my finger
it's barely noticeable but
i remember i scratched it
on the rough stone of a grave
and i wonder if i had also
left my foolish, fickle, young heart
on the doorstep to
the tomb of our friendship

flowers to the dead wilt eventually, darling
but fresh blood still spools onto
the drenched steps with
every beat of this desiccated heart

i'm hopeless.

if seeing you means
enduring this...
this feeling of having
a rusted fork in my throat
means having my heart
burst from carrying so much
means my bones
turn into taffy and want
then

i wish to never see you
in front of me

i wish to never have to
meet you in real life

if we do i hope we
brush by
like strangers
i hope you act like you
don’t know me

because too often
i still wonder what i’d do
if i did meet you,
how i’d react and
whether your eyes
will still make me cry

i don’t know.
i don’t
want to know.

i prefer thinking
i'm strong enough to handle this.

i'm tired but
i
still miss you.
i’m sorry.