you made my words stumble

from lips untamed

like the wind

in my hair

when we drove all night


listening to songs

we had always sung


alone.


and now i sing
 them again,

alone,


but you have burned
 memories

to my music
 and

for all my regrets,

i would take no poetry back



except when you told me


you woke up one day

and realized
 something

was missing,


 

and discarded me


for the way i could not

fill a void i did not create.

i would take back the poetry

i wrote before you looked at me


with empty eyes,


before your back hunched


and face stopped smiling.



because until then,


we were trying to relearn

courage enough to think
 about

love again,

but amnesia of the heart

leaves you lost

and lonely


and me

with pages penned about a stranger

who looked at me and said,


“i do not know
 if i ever felt

anything for you at all."

 

i crave something

that seems rather simple.

 

i crave to breathe,

to let the air fill my lungs

and the soft breeze caress

my skin.

 

i crave to feel better again.

the youthful innocence

of strawberry lip balm

and sun kissed cheeks.

 

i do not want to keep running around

in circles,

i am so tired

of breaking at every turn.

i am not quite sure

if this is happiness

or numbness.

sometimes i wonder why

i stand up again,

when it only feels like

every bone is

breaking.

something inside my soul

is holding on,

something i cannot explain,

a string that is getting

shorter—

shorter.