I realized today that I was still in love,

but not with you, but rather

with what used to be you.

I’m in love with a girl

that used to occupy your space…

I’m in love with a memory.

Each poem or prose that I write

usually ends with me begging you

to not be a stranger.

This time I’m writing

to whom this may concern.

Shit happens, I guess.

Like the beast once sang,

the memory of you

resides in my heart,

tormenting me for evermore.

I’m glad you’re out there finding yourself,

growing and learning like you should.

What you did was a selfish necessity.

I’m doing the same these days.

You’ve changed and we’ve all noticed.

I’m proud of you, Sunshine.

If you end up trying to find someone,

make sure they’re someone of worth,

someone who’s going places,

someone who treats you with respect

and most importantly,

someone who Chloe approves of.

A resident at the nursing home

taught me to not believe in goodbyes,

but I’m not entirely sure she crunched the numbers,

so I’ll just leave you with this:

I’ll see you on the other side of time, Sunshine.

Love,

Kevvo

#poetry

It’s hard to hear your laughter

across the hall, where I used to laugh too.

Don’t get me wrong, we still do

have a decent laugh every now and then.

It’s not what it used to be.

I’m not what I used to be.

I know you’re trying to make me feel okay.

I appreciate it. I’m fragile these days.

I almost broke my hand

on all sorts of furniture today;

it was a little too swollen for my taste

and surprisingly hurt more than I expected.

Tom came in while I was on the floor sobbing,

after I’d make a ruckus with the furniture

and with my belt.

The man just wanted to play some Halo.

He’s worried. I told him not today, man

and he texted me not long after,

saying I know where the bruises come from.

You ever just feel so fragile that you

need the love of someone’s arms

to hold you together, to keep you from falling apart,

to tell you it’s okay…

but it’s not just anyone’s arms that’ll do, no-

it’s their loving arms… your loving arms.

I know you’re not coming back to

help me hold myself together.

It’s just me. It’s just me trying to

hold together the pieces of me.

It’s like picking up sand,

shit’s just falling through the cracks

and all I’m left with is

something that kind of looks and acts like me.

I’ll try not to get my hopes up,

but come visit sometime, please.

#poetry