PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We've been here before, probably in a past life
Felt like I was feeling something brand new last night
I couldn't tell if it was good sex or if my emotions couldn't act right
I usually never confuse the two, and I tried to suppress it with my last might
It's kinda ironic that the one who made you feel like you matter could suddenly turn you into nothing
Just a blip on the screen of a radar that seems to no longer function
But that's only when I'm in the picture
I really hope you received the letters I sent ya
Because they tell of every moment and regret that lies with ya
The thought alone of you with a next nigga could make anyone cringe
Because if they saw the beautiful times that were spent
They'd be reaching for the bottle like I am because the story had to end
And as I stubbornly push this pen
I realize that I could never find a friend again
And I know you'd be pissed if I told you the places I've been, the money I've spent, the drugs I did, and the bitches I hit
But they paled in comparison to the joyous melancholy you give
I don't really have a problem with being alone
I hate the fast life I've adopted, I'd rather be at home
And by home I mean you or something else I'm close to
Even with all of this money, I realize by 20
I'll be dead or either looking for something
Because honey, I have this dream of a coffee shop
Where I pull into the parking lot and let up my top and I nod my head to an off duty cop
Then the line dies down and I reach the top
I order my cup of dark, turn around, bump, and spill my heart
Because instead of catching an attitude because of the colliding latitudes
I wipe off my shirt and I look up to see you
And as the hurtful flashbacks become transparent and see-through
I can't help but pretend like you're a stranger and bid adieu