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.