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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


I thought this was all straight-forward.

Instead, why is it such an invisible ladybrinth of torment?


I thought I knew my every walk and every way.

I thought I knew my every talk and every say.

But now I find I don't know myself.

I thought I knew you.

I thought I knew me.

But now I don't know anything. 


My every thought was about myself.

Perhaps that's still how it is today.

All these thoughts, they bore me.

Wish I listened to yours,

Let them adorn me.

But now it's too late,

It's all the same,

Only now you're not here to save me.


But I'll regain my composure.

The fact something was is good enough for me.

I'll entertain myself with these memories.

Surely they are immortal.

I have everything, no?


Though I can't deny pain erupts in me.

These happy memories only bring misery.

Phantasms are not good enough.

If imaginations could cure my pain,

the world would have no suffering.

But that doesn't work.


Still I can't forget you.

I can't help but remember you.

I would rather suffer with what I have left of you,

Than live empty without you.

I can never abandon you.


With these thoughts I still gain nothing.

I think only of myself again.

I only despise myself.


Until we meet again,

I'll comfort myself with your rest.

Until we see each other more than our phantasms,

I'll comfort myself with your memory.

Submitted: October 02, 2021

© Copyright 2021 PhantasmClassic. All rights reserved.

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