I'll Get Back to the Poems

Three years wasted.

—It’s midnight.

Years that were spent following another’s heart, another’s dreams.

—And I’m still writing on my diary.

Forfeiting the hopes and wishes I’ve always held dear.

—Writing down the dreary memories.

That I may always be with the one,

—Making myself remember.

Who made my heart skip and forget.

—For the last time…the last time.

For after this, I’ll get back to the poems.

The sonnets and verses and lines,

A mirage of cold words that were put together

To make me warm.

They do not have the heart that you do

Nor the feelings or the touch or embrace.

But they are better than you

So I’ll get back to the poems

Than still love you.

There are times that I miss you.

—How I used to marvel at the mere thought of you!

Even when all I ever was…was a shadow behind you.

—At your smiles, your smirks, and your tears.

Reminding myself again and again, ‘One day! One day!”

—Each morning I thanked God that I met you.

Then you’ll make me cry, but still I love you.

—But all you ever saw was what I can do for you.

But that is over now.

—So my heart learned how to live without you.

And now I’m back to the poems

To the love, laughter, and tears on paper.

For it is better here, with my bleeding heart and writing inks.

Than to be a prisoner of your fears and tragedies.

Better to walk to my own hungers and dreams,

Than to do as you please.

For a heart is deceitful above all things,

So I’ll get back to the poems…and  remember me.

#RM