It's over.
Your words still ring
Clear in my ears;
It's been a month,
30 days
720 hours
43200 minutes
2592000 seconds-
Each second of being alone
Equally painful;
Each tick of the clock's hand
Tearing me apart;
Eyes sunk hollow
Staring at the phone's screen
Waiting for it to light up
With your contact number;
Imagining you saying,
"Sorry it was a mistake-
I still love you,
More than ever."
But the call never came,
And the doorbell never rang,
And it's been a month,
And I need to move on.
Your clothes go for charity;
All photos to the trash bin;
All gifts parcelled back;
I want no reminders, you see.
B'bye to our favourite songs-
I'm sorry to lose them
But there are hundreds more
And I need to heal.
(Are you sorry to lose me?)
Backspace-
You don't exist for me.
Not anymore.
I'll need time to harden up
And maybe years later
I might smile at you
When I see you in the park
Without feeling an ache
Deep in my heart.
I'll have to change the wallpaper you chose
I didn't like the red anyway
And throw away your origami roses.
I'd told you I hated roses
But you'd say paper weren't petals
And they meant much more.
But now they don't.
I shall not gaze at the sky
Lying on my grassy lawn;
Cause each star will remind me
Of you and your mistakes;
I shan't swing in the park
Nor ever have your favourite cornetto;
I'll find new eat-outs
New series to binge watch;
And new company, I hope.
I'll have to take the longer road home
Cause I can't bear to see your orange house
And what if my eyes catch you with her?
I'll try taking a solo trip
If my boss gives me a leave;
And I'll hang out with John
Cause who's feeling jealous now?
I'll get the tattoo I always wanted
Maybe even the belly-button ring;
It's my body after all;
I'll gain a few pounds
And then run a few miles
I'll be the one in control.
Your faults now stand in high contrast;
And as my memory blurs
With each passing day
I'll forget I loved you
As I start loving myself.
~azmina
YOU ARE READING
Of Floating Buoys and Broken Bells
Poetry"Poetry flowed like little rivulets From the ocean that was her soul." ~azmina Our souls dance to the rhythm of poetry. A small collection of my poems that will, hopefully, provide the beats to your dance.
