Someday,

I know that you’ll let me
finish our story
in the pages of another book
dedicated to you.

No babe. I won’t be letting go
that, by now you should know,
I always hold on until the very close end.

And Someday,

You’ll let me on my own,
pretend it was my fault
and read our story in the pages
of the dusty books on your shelves.

Because Someday,

You’ll be caught thinking of me,
far after our ending,
far after what’s done is
forever done.

Oh yes, Dear,

I’ve been thinking of you,
and I know what you could do
to tear me apart on the floor.
I think you know too.

But Darling,

I’m not writing our ending,
I’m not yet finished mending,
And I’m waiting for that chance to say
that I’ll never say goodbye.

Darling,

I’ll be finishing someday,
and I know that in some ways,
you don’t want our end
to tear you apart.
Yes, Dear, I know,
I’m still in your heart.

Just buried.

So No Dear,

You can’t finish that quickly,
let me finish our story,
before I write out the ending.

May I not just write it off entirely?

This poem is about letting go, or rather, the refusal to do so. I was brushing my teeth before school and listening to my iPod on full blast when “Beautiful Ending” by Barlowgirl came on (you might notice, I am for the most part inspired whenever I’m listening to music). I kind of starting thinking about things, and this is what appeared, so here I am, standing with my laptop on the dresser, frantically typing to get this out, and the bus will be here in seconds!

So, adieu for now, and hope you enjoyed!