This was originally supposed to be a compilation of poems that I have written for the people I am willing to forget about, for people I no longer give a damn about. But alas, they still exist and I will (unfortunately) always care.
I guess we never really let go of our ghosts. They don't just fade away into the black background. They linger and this is proof of that.
The poems I have written, typed and shared with you are proof that these disgusting, horrible things called emotions, called feelings still exist in the deepest parts of me. I cannot shake them off no matter how much I write.
Upon that realization I figured out that there really is no after, not for them, not for us those who still have enough blood in our veins to bleed out words on the pages of regret, of longing, of something or everything that once was but still may be.
Therefore we continue.
I continue.
Hopefully, you do to.
Let's bleed together.
(or not if you don't get the metaphor, but you most probably do)
YOU ARE READING
After Us
PoetryPeople say that love can shape us into poets. Whether it is a love returned, love forgotten, or a love that just couldn't be. So this is what comes after all you've been through together, after all the things you've said and promised, after you-afte...
