Creative Writing · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Reflection · Relationships · Writing

Two Years

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I could talk about how on this day two years ago you broke me. How a piece of me was cut out, burned and brushed away.


I could recollect on leaning on that raw wooden post, a cigarette in hand but I won’t.


I will not talk about how you left me at my most vulnerable moment. Or how I yearned for any morsel of your affection to be told, “I never loved you.”


Seven years and a thousand lifetimes passed as you lived with the one you did not love.


Still, we will not remember such things.


Even on tonight when I sung along to the music that defined us, you and I. How we ran on punk rock, drunken nights, and playing lovebirds in the desert. The music and the wind runs through it.


This dead salty memory.


No, today I will recall how these things did not and could not defeat me.


How the darkness of one defining moment could not stop the sun’s rising.


Two years and I run from you like the horse in that field. The grass below my feet and the future a bold blue sky.


And even on tonight when I vow not to speak of you, I can not help but miss your presence. In the dark desert sands the music plays on.


Without you. 

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