The kind that poets write
A poem
We met as two young hearts, so naive and wild
And in your gaze, I found my paradise
In those high school corridors, we shared secret smiles
And our love story was just beginning to rise
I remember the day our hands met for the first time
As you reached out for my eraser
I felt butterflies that day,
A warmth that filled my heart with pleasure.
We talked for hours on the phone
And in your voice, I found my home
You were my first love, pure and true
The kind that poets write
But now, miles and miles apart
Our love story feels like a shattered art
It was once a beautiful symphony
But now it feels like a tragic melody
I remember the day you tore me apart
With your words, so cruel and sharp
And the wounds still linger,
they sting and they ache
I still remember the moment
When our eyes met for the last time
As you crossed my car in that traffic fray
I wonder if you still remember that day
How do I unlove you?
When every memory is like a tattoo
Etched in my heart, forever a part of me
And every thought of you still brings me to my knees
But I know that it’s time to let go
So, I’ll bid you farewell
And leave you in the past where you belong
And maybe one day, I’ll find someone who will love me like I do…
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