This will be the last poem I write about you
Personal closure on what I’ve been through
To think that you’d find, this lost face of mine
Deep within the thing at the tip of my spine
I remember swooning, lost in your touch
Planning things out as if I’d earned such
We’d have a house; on top of a hill
And watch the world stand a little bit still
I think I’ll wake up, after this tune
Realization stalks me from across the room
Dreams can be goals, but they’re often a farce
Reality is usually just a little more harsh
Such a delusion; it felt like me
Why did I choose not to be set free?
I don’t hate you; I admire a lot
You helped to bright the shadow I fought
No reason to stand; but a care about me
A window to look at the man I’d be
You’re much the same, but I know I’m different
‘Cause I don’t even care that you’ll never read it
The best way to guide, a lost man in love
Is simply to burn it
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