PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

by Jeph Johnson

When my days were numbered it was very important to feel as though I had the ability to be valued. To accomplish something worthy. 

Sadly, anxiety fucked all that up.

I wanted to really do something on my terms to leave a part of my legacy behind; a part of myself that was truly worthy of love: My thoughts. My fears. My ideas. My hopes. My interpretations. My rhymes. My humor. My ideals. My passions. My soul. 

Yes, my soul was pleading to be allowed the freedom to be loved, outside of this imminent nothingness.

No one recognized this part of me when I was alive, but what about after I'm gone?

My soul mate exists on another time line; my lover is stuck in a different dimension.

If you're reading this in the future: I love you. I really mean it. 

If you're reading this in the past, my apologies for not performing more poetry posthumously.

I do not simply hold you to my chest anymore because you're in my arms eternally. You're in my heart, even after it's stopped.