Still Scribbling

"If you ran to the end of the earth I would catch you."

It's three twenty four in the morning, and I waste another night
scribbling out love songs to no one and discard my life letter by letter.
I know it's been a year and a half but every now and then she'll sneak in
as I try to discard her once and for all.
Trying to get her
lost in the alphabet that builds upon itself and makes a new world;
my world.
My integrity
my life
my friends
my enemies
my love.
Previously; her.
But she's being poured out, getting drowned in this alphabet
and she's been suffocating for a year and a half
and I think she's finally dead
along with everything else that's been held down.

These past few weeks have been incredible.
I'm so happy and it's still three thirty six in the morning
and I'm still scribbling out love songs to no one.
These symphonies and bittersweet songs about best friends
are premediation for any subsequent despondence,
the words and melodies act as a filter for the bad thoughts.
These words are reread and rethought when the bad thoughts get in
and I realize why they're there.
They aren't there because I made them
they made themselves to help
because they love me
and when something loves you
there's nothing worth being upset about.

Reviews

[Ari]

"she's been suffocating for a year and a half
and I think she's finally dead"

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. This poem reads like something that I would write, which means that I really enjoyed reading it.