I wrote this poem a long time ago, and rewrote it recently. I think it’s important to note that the heartache that inspired this poem was not founded in romantic love, but platonic. Sometimes, our friends, family, and lovers move on, grow, and sometimes, it’s without us. It’s a hard transition, but we can make it through. I wrote this poem to deal with that loss, and learn how to cope. Heartache does eventually end, the hurt stops, and you learn how to live without people you thought you would love forever.
You and I, we wasted our time
on saints and sinners and
garage band beginners.
When sunset clouds didn’t mesmerize
you anymore, you started counting
the pulse points behind my knees.
I’m not sure it’s what you wanted,
but it’s what you got stuck with.
I buried your memories
beneath the daisies
because that’s where my mother
always told me people go
when they’re never coming back.
I’m not naïve enough to believe
that anymore but
I thought this way,
I could find something beneath
the gunshot heartbeat
you tried to start within my chest.
I’m trying to translate the pattern
of prints you left on my skin
into a language I will later call
something a young girl can love
and think is unique to her
and then slowly get it trained out of her
and then cynically reject it
over and over and
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