Poetry At Most

I still wonder

I know the danger of finding myself in someone else, and still, I seek it.

I know we both want to write this like some kind of poetry,

I stopped flipping the calendar after you were gone. It was just a reminder of how time kept moving on when all I wanted was for it to stop.

I can still only think of you for fractions of a second at a time. Just enough for the memories to make it to my mind before they make it to my heart.

And maybe it’s a good thing that there is no bargaining when it comes to death... Because I fear there is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t destroy in order to get you back.

I have loved you for half of my life.

I dreamed of the day that I would let you love me, and that it would be enough.

I only ever ache for the things I can’t have.

I love you for every reason, and also for no reason at all.

In the meantime, I grow roses. I tell everyone it’s for the flowers, but sometimes I think it might be for the thorns.

You finally fell in love with someone new, and I tell myself it’s because she’s the closest thing you’ve found to me.

I will never forgive myself for the way I begged you to love me.