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Dear Diary (Dying)

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Below is the poem entitled Dear Diary (Dying) which was written by poet Sarah Jones. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Dear Diary (Dying)

Maybe this can't be saved.

One more short year and I'll never see her again. I'll always be wondering about 
her but it's better left that way. Never been able to face the truth. Even now.

We were all each other needed, some childish indestructable duo of sorts. All 
gone.

Sometimes it's my fault. I've been a cliche since prom night when she came over 
and apologised and suddenly she was perfection. After that I hardly spoke 
around her in case I stuttered or worse, couldn't make her laugh. Was I in love? If 
I was I still am. This intolerable inferiority complex, this petrified fear of not being 
good enough feels all too familiar.

Don't think there was one moment when it all happened, but now I find myself 
smiling arduously in black armour; all that she made me once again 
undermined. I called her my mermaid; sunny skin, the beach in her hair and eyes 
shining with all the colours and tempers of the ocean.

Now she's hacked away every detail of her. Barely recognisable, even to the one 
who used to know her best.

There's a girl I still know, dancing through my memories, but already clinging to 
herself, desperate to remain. She knows she can't stay forever.

We're not the people we were; this can never work.

Today I'm hiding behind a calm and carefree front; she can never know, nor 
understand why. I'm blocking her out.
Out of sight, out of mind
No explanation. We were dying anyway.
But if she asks why I can't see her anymore
How can I even look her in the face?
If that's selfish then at last it's my turn.

I miss her even when we're locked in embrace. Affection is genuine. All else is 
lost. She can't save us, can't put in the effort. I've tried but I'm weak. Another 
excuse to take cover under.

I can't change her back. Why am I trying? I should just make the most of my 
precious friend now.

A little more of her slips away every day.

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