To all the people thinking of someone who is now a sole memory in their mind


The past doesn’t pain me

As much as it does

To think about

What our future would have held


For I cannot enjoy the future

When I am fixated on the past

Because I am unable to work in the present


I envy those

Who can deal with this change

For this is why I find life so hard


I am not jealous

That you moved on

Nor that you’re happy

I am jealous because

You were able to


The pain is not

That you’re gone

And moved on

But that you’re doing fine in life

And I’m stuck in time


Yet I know that

You will not remember me by the love I gave

Nor the pleasure I pained

Not even the support I lathered you in

But all the times I did this

Too much


I want to love so despair again

But no amount of desperation

Could let me move on from you


It would have been easier to let go

If I had not gripped so hard all along

But I was just trying to stay

Away from our rocky water


It gets worse before it gets better

But I am too weak to persevere


The past doesn’t pain me

As much as it does

To think of what

Our future would have held


Being in love is hard. Real love, not any high school or college love. The type of relationship that fosters a feeling you had never experienced before. The type of feeling that you don’t ever want to have again because it hurt so badly when that feeling was dismantled that you don’t want anything to do with it again.

I had this love and it was amazing. Too amazing for a 16-18.5 year old to be filled with. Then it ended. Tragic and sudden my whole world was missing a huge piece of it.

Waking up and being an entirely different person, going months without talking to the person who understood you most. No amount of physical pain, of which I’ve ever experienced, could have matched to the pain I experienced from a bruised heart.

I can only pray that one day you are able to experience this type of love. I can only pray harder that if you do it doesn’t break you. It may just be me, but I would have rather not loved and been simply broken rather than have loved and been bruised.


Each year I look back on

Seems better than the following year

For example, last year was better than this year

And the year before last was better than last

So now I wonder

What does this year obtain

Which I will look back upon and miss

For I know that

It cannot be you

As you are already

Gone