New and Away

The week has left me broken and sore

I can’t smell you on my pillows any more.

Time to get back and make me forget

The mess I was before we met. 

It’s more than a simple addiction

But I wouldn’t call it a bad kind of affliction.

No longer any kind of productive

Because just the memory of you is seductive. 

It’s easy to see that I’ve got it bad

After this short time you’re the best I’ve ever had.

But you can trust me not to say a word

Until when you come forward with what needs to be heard.

A pro when emotions need to be hidden

Maybe some day for this I can be forgiven.

Instead I’ll tell you how I feel with my slow blinks

And random thoughts that slip out when we drink. 

I normally write bad poetry only when in the angsty phase of getting over a breakup. I made the best grades in my English and music classes after being dumped. (Some semesters I just needed someone I cared about to dump me). I woke up this morning with this rattling in my head and it’s the first, non-angry thing I’ve ever written that wasn’t forced. I wonder if that’s a good sign for my situation…

I'm a realist.

I’m a realist.



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