Wasted

It's crushing me, the silence I sit in because you aren't here.

For less than a year, you made my life.

Subtle hints gave way to truths that should have never been told.

Most would say it was well worth it, but I live unlike most.

It's not a desire, a want, or even a need.

It's an empty place in me that you once overflowed.

I miss you.

So much.

I write stupid little pieces that minutely express my lack.

I know I have to go on, but the anchor of the loss of you tethers me down.

We used to write together, and I loved that others admired our collaborations.

I kept them, you know.

Tucked safely away on digital storage, and even safer under emotional lock and key.

We strayed from lifes' plans to pursue the norm.

I kept a box of memories on me, just to reminisce.

Reciepts, empty bag of Funyuns, the paper bracelet from playing pool.

I have petals from the flowers in a blue glass jar in my backpack.

They are imperfected from being in the laundry, but I still keep them.

Nobody can foresee the future, and I can't live in the past.

I can only use my memories to try and suffice through another day.

But only you and I know the truth.

And truth is painful.

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

Truth can be painful, yet there is always a sense of freedom in the capablities of truth. Your sorrow resounds, dear poet. The cracks in the walls of the heart that constantly bleeds can still feel each new tear. Scar begetting scar begetting scar..... And we still survive, we still stand, we still face the darkness shrouded in light.... The Warrior does not see defeat, he sees the opportunity to rise again. It is in that moment when the strength of our soul is ever so potent and we continue.... not because we can, love....
Because we MUST.

[yellow devil]

I am not a warrior, I'm just the knight.