My love for you is older than the ends of my hair—
I can’t remember if you’ve seen me since it’s gotten so long.
But when I cut the ends, they will die
but my memories of you will remain in place,
alive as ever.
I’m destroying my ear drums
trying to block out the sadness you rooted in me
by listening to angry, cynical, shitty folk music
because songs of love and songs of adventure
remind me of you.
I woke up feeling content this morning
after dreaming that I was finally good enough to deserve you
just to have that happiness turn to sorrow in a single blink
when I realized I’m not and never will be.
My composure has been slipping
and I’m glad you’re not here to see it
because my discontent is as plain as the scar where a secret piece of you lives.
I try to forget you
but your name will continue to plague my journals
and I’ll still write shitty poems about you
because I was far too young for what you put in my head
and you’ll ne