Our Old Conversations

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I think everyone at one point or another, goes back and reads texts, letters etc. from past relationships. And this can bring back fantastic memories of great times shared, or bring back horrific memories of how the bastard just left you.

Submitted: May 09, 2012

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Submitted: May 09, 2012

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I really shouldn't go back and read our old conversations,

They bring back too many memories. 

Memories that tare my heart to pieces,

And make tears fall like lead weights.

I miss you so much.

You're so far away,

We haven't spoken in months,

I don't even know if you're ok. 

Nor do I know what ever happened between us.

I suppose I shouldn't make such a production of it,

I knew it wasn't serious,

I knew it was too good to be true.

Now.

Just like all the other happiness in my life,

Vibrant and short lived.

Gone after a week,

Leaving my heart and soul baron and bleak.

But I guess you could say you were my first love,

Or at least the first to love me back.

Or so I thought.

A shame how shitty it turned out. 

 

Now all I can do is take a ride on a misty gray steam locomotive back to the times we shared.

But those memories are fading like the color of a shirt,

Sitting out in the summer sun.

Melting into a blank abyss.

I wish I still had you,

At least to talk to.

Everyday I still look to see if you messaged me back out of the blue.

 

To me you were embodied perfection.

I'll never forget your eyes,

Magnets,

Pulling my heart,

Closer,

Closer.

Attraction growing,

 Stronger,

Stronger,

Day by day. 

 

The guess there's really only one thing now that I can say:

I miss you.

And go back and look at our old conversations,

Go on a trip to see what we could have been in my imagination.

Ponder and pine over words that were said,

And put together a jigsaw puzzle of your face in my head.

 

What happened?

Where did you go?

These are the questions and that float about in my cranium.

I'm searching for answers that will never come,

Like a bug clinging to a leaf,

Almost as if its fun.

I'm not sure when or if my want for you will end.

Nor do I know if the scars you left on my heart will mend.

All I know is my heart is writing this with passion and desperation,

Wow,

I really never should have went and read our old conversations.


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