under the waxing gibbous moon,
the dimly lit pavements as we walk
you hum through the songs
your chuckles echoing in my ears
the warmth of you beside me
when you were staring out the window,
it was both the feeling of familiarity and strangeness
clover, you feel so far away
there's no "Cornelia Street" at all
if there is, then it's not a place
i consistently went to all the places we've been to
and even the places we haven't gone through
truth be told, all i see is your ghost everywhere with me
occasionally it gets lonely despite it tailing behind,
sometimes it's a pat on the shoulder, a hug
it's a token of remembrance
even with you gone, you'll always be here
haunting and haunting
to eternity will it finally kill me
it's just slow torment
how i wish i knew how to break the cycle
repeating; regressing
there are only two ways to get through
the game of "fake it 'til you make it",
and a race toward the ends of the days—only without my legs and hands to help
only to wake up again in the morning
knowing you won't be there
01 DEC 22
YOU ARE READING
To Fill or Burst, To Break or Bury
PoetryI may have been the one who wrote this book, yet it undoubtedly belongs to you. Even if our hearts were meant to fill or burst, or even break or bury, today's me will always, always love you-through the shiniest or even the darkest side. No matter w...
