PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Its another anniversary.

I cannot place blame,

or treat poems as if they are letters,

addressed with his name.

I am addressing no one but the silence of monday morning.

It's quietly sunny, absent of drama,

just another day.

Today is just another day,

and I have sworn to myself that I will no longer write

using proper pronouns.  Forbidden "you's" are swept away.

But he is gone.  And I don't care.

Stories are what I write cause he's never there.



Once upon a time, there was a young girl who thought she was wise.

She thought she was in pain, and needed to kill the time.

So she went with a boy, disillusioned,

swearing to him and the world that the green wouldn't make her feel-

that the actions of green people weren't real.

But then she laughed so hard she cried.

And she danced in the afternoon light.

And she took his body but not for the last time.

And she was amazed at how much she felt.

As if she was finally alive.

And she saw confusion in his eyes,

proving that she made him feel something as well.

So she traded heavy morals, chains of wisdom, and constant hell-

for two nugs and the belief that she could kill herself.

The her that wanted no lies.

The her that wanted to do what was right.

And so, everyday, those virtuous cells died.

And even after the boy stopped, she kept on.

And even after her friends dropped, she kept on.

And even after he disapproved, she kept on.

And even after he up and moved, she kept on.

And even after he couldn't see, she kept on.

It takes many years to die slowly.



Happy anniversary.

One day is discarded, the importance of "he"-

Twenty for Twenty-One, love for the green.

Today I woke up and thought the world was too sunny.

And he does not exist in the sun.

I kept on.

I kept on.

Maybe I exist under many layers of resin.

But I let the sun in.

And burned away the sadness of much accumulated rain.

And resin feels no pain.

I kept on.