It’s in the morning
When I feel you,
On the edge of my imagination,
Like you’re just about
To come around the corner,
And smile at me.
It’s in the morning
When I feel the loneliest,
That I want you.
That I remember
How good I used to have it,
And how you walking into the room
Made my heart smile
And made me laugh.
But now—
Whenever I see you,
Everything is masked by my pain.
It’s in the morning
That when I close my eyes,
I can almost pretend,
That we never came home,
That we’re still in Ireland,
And nothing between us has changed.
That when I open my eyes,
You’ll be right beside me,
Laughing and talking,
And there will be no pain to hide behind.
Because I can pretend that you are mine.
It’s in the morning
When the silence feels the coldest,
And the memories try to kill me,
—Somehow I survive—
But I’m miserable and broken,
And seeing you makes it worse
Because I was just a girl.
Just a girl.
YOU ARE READING
If You Knew Me
PoetryThese are the words that my fingers write and my heart cries when my mouth can't speak.
