You asked
But it wasn't the truth
Hiding from me
Or hiding from you
Can't understand what happened here
Just friends
Or so it appeared
The truth stepped forth
But I stepped back
Not ready for the things you asked
Like looking through backwards glass
The thrush hits you too fast
Mumbling
Muttering
Confuses my mind
The feelings not there
The feelings you hide
Panic hidden in plain sight
There but not present
Running through my mind
Wanted away
Hurting me
Stayed away
Hurting you
You did it with pose
You did it with grace
Knowing all I needed was space
Time slips by
Heals all wounds
Time forgotten feelings too
See you again
Has something changed?
Where is the pose?
Where is the grace?
Months gone by
How did you hold on
Fell for someone else
But your shadow haunts my steps
Eyes following my moves
Everyone I look at you
Here is where it ends
From friends to something else
Slipping into nothing more
Than a memory to forget
I have this notebook where I write the things down that I don't know how to say out loud. I write little poems, songs, or just random nonsensical things. I use it as a way to cope with difficult things in my life. It started by accident really. I was upset about something, but I was just upset. It was one of those times where you don't know how to explain how you feel; you just know you feel that way. I've always had a hard time figuring out how I feel about things. I remember being so frustrated, and I just started writing. It was a surprise to me when I realized that writing things down gave me closure. I would be so angry or sad and just writing down what I felt would give me such peace. The ability to put on paper what I was feeling and read it back was amazing. I had never been able to understand my feelings so clearly before. I was flipping through my notebook a couple nights ago and randomly started reading the one above. I had to reread it a second time because I had no clue what or who the poem was about. I write the most personal stuff in the notebook. I've only left a few people very close to me read it so for me to not remember who this poem was about truly shocked me. It also made me kind of sad that I couldn't remember something that had once been so important to me. I've always been so picky about what problems I put in this notebook. Only putting the ones that bothered me the most. It's terribly sad to know that one day we will forget the things that we once held important. At the time I am sure that I thought I would never forget what inspired that poem into existence. When I read the poem now, I can't even tell if I was upset or happy while writing it. I have no idea why I wrote it in the first place. How can we forget things like that? The things that shape us into the person we are or will become. We meet people and then forget they ever existed. It sounds so horrible, but it happens all the time. We forget entire conversations. We have days of our lives that are missing, and we don't even notice. Why do we hold onto the bad and forget the good? What would it be like if we could remember of life in its entirety? That is a scary idea but a part of me wishes that I knew.
