Moth-bound

I hold you in the deepest part of my heart

Where no map dares to trace its lines

I whisper your name in the darkest of rooms

Because ghosts aren't that hard to find

I walk past flickering lights; a faded, empty matchbox in my hand

But I remember how you just had to laugh your stupid laugh, and your voice could light up every lamp

You say your quiet apologies, its colours now washed thin

But I remember how the tides moved whenever you spoke your utterly maddening poetry and sin

You're a paradox; a cruel sentiment I chased for 16 months

A paradox so necessarily impossible and yet deeply desired all at once

I tell myself I'd never change too much, not for you

But look at me, rhyming my verses! A disheartening, disappointing, and disconcerting cue

A cue you'll never receive,

A cue I'll never avow

So, I end my tattered and over-edited notes to myself

With a wishlist I could only dream of you fulfilling right now

I wish that you'd tell me all the things you'll miss when I'm gone

Wish you'd tell me you'll write all the time so you won't feel alone

Tell me that you love me --- or don't, it's all the same, anyway

So long, stranger

We'll meet again someday...