written on 10/3/21
---
i miss the moments when it was delicate
where a kiss was nothing more
and those days that i sit and reflect on never occurred, if only.
i'd like to imagine different ways where it could've ended better, or never began
and maybe my mind could rest without thoughts of doubt creeping through
if everything had gone right i wouldn't be here wondering if it did
shouldn't i know?
am i truly just ignoring all signs that tell me to beware?
is something terribly wrong?
if there wasn't why would i ask?
am i just pretending it's perfect,
to convince myself i am content?
it's all far from true
maybe I'm closer to torment than i let on
i want this
is that why i sugarcoat my pains?
is this what i fight for?
a chance for me to be silent so you can forget?
i always remember
no amount of forgiveness helps me let go
all these memories can't make up for the moments you have tainted
all for you to have your way
take me back when it was delicate
---
icky rainy days helps with inspiration. it can help draw your mood to a more intimate solitude so you can write whatever may come to mind. it's interesting, isn't it?
YOU ARE READING
folie
Poetryjournal-like entries taken from my journal filled with poems and tales that might not make much sense to you. read if you don't mind it, though.
