When will I speak to you next?
When I can no longer remember your face clearly.
When I can no longer close my eyes and imagine your lips against mine or look into those eyes and feel wanted.
When my dreams tire of showing you to me and I can sleep soundly for the first night since you left.
When I can no longer hear the whispers of broken promises in your voice echoing through my mind in the silence of an empty house.
When my heart settles itself instead of tearing between rage and sorrow, and the oceans of my consciousness have calmed and stilled; the serenity shattered when Fate decreed you would meet the boy you now claim to love.
The day I recognise with complete confidence that you were never going to believe I was worth keeping is the day I will speak to you as a friend- and not a broken man who was too foolish to see he never stood a chance.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Normally I don't keep personal things where others can see it, but I liked this poem that I thought of during a walk and it would be a shame to forget it.
No comments:
Post a Comment