TW (1-5-93 / )

I Could

I could write a million times
in a million different ways
and i could write
every cliche in the book
I could take every metaphor, write
and describe it for miles
and miles
of simile filled pain soaked words
with tear stains on every page
of the book, i could write
of my life before you
my life with you
and my simple existence
of lack of
without you
but i could never describe
the sorrow in my soul
that rolls like an ocean
and the best of me washes away with the tide.
i could never fully write
the way you made me feel
the roller-coaster way you swept me off my feet
I could never figure out
why i could never make things right
why good things like you had to be missed
and why people like me had to be left empty inside
from the memories,
I could never describe
the feelings that conflict deep inside my soul
and rip me apart as i lose all control
and i let go of my fragile grasp of sanity
almost mimicking the way you let go of me
as silence sits loudly
as the dailtone on the phone
which i pick up in my darkest hour
and punch you numbers in an hopeless surrender
then i put down the receiver
because i could never listen to the static on the other line
and your voice saying things
i can't comprehend or even bear to understand
'it's over.'
I could write a million things
but it would never make me feel as free as I was
when embraced in your arms
and all the personifications in the world
wouldn't explain how sometimes
pain can sit beside you and talk to you
like you're the only person in the world
that it knows
and it tells you in the thoughts that invade your mind
but you could never explain why
you feel like you do;
why i feel like i do,
but i know it's got something to do with the things i had before
that i just don't anymore.
and everyone whispers in comforting tones
that chill me to the core
'move on'
I could write a million times
about how i can flawlessly fake a smile
practice makes perfect
but i could never explain how crazy it makes me feel
when i miss you so much
and i know i shouldnt
and you walk right by and never glance in my direction
So i don't try
i keep it inside
all delicately wrapped up in laced-up, sugar-coated lines.
'i promise, i'm fine.'
and it bubbles up
but i could never explain how it does
because you would never
could never understand;
no matter how many times I write it

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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

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